


Tales From The Firehouse

by Stunty



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:48:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 74,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stunty/pseuds/Stunty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Skins gang in a modern day setting in Liverpool, England. </p>
<p>Naomi the firefighter meets the woman of her dreams after being injured at work. Add in an arsonist determined to hurt someone and she certainly has her hands full.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Ordinary Man

**Author's Note:**

> This one is set in my real life workplace (I'm a firefighter lol) As you can imagine, we sometimes get hurt in work etc without any warning that its going to happen. I rarely post warnings on this in fics as I think being told what's going to happen in advance, well, it spoils the story (personally I HATE spoilers...)
> 
> That said, anything that could need a trigger warning WILL be given one, promise.

Her first thought was that this was, at long last, the boogeyman from her closet finally come to get her. The smoke was rising behind him and he wasn't shaped like any other man she'd ever seen.

Usually, whenever she woke up during the night, she found herself looking up at the pale green glow-in-the-dark stars and planets her Mummy had stuck to the ceiling over her bed. Now they all seemed very distant, fuzzy, like the real stars that she could see outside. Sometimes clouds got in the way and the stars looked like they were about to burn out; that's what her personal solar system looked like now. But how could clouds have gotten into her room? Did the boogeyman bring them?

Naomi blinked her eyes, which were watering, and started to sit up. The man held her down, but it wasn't a scary move. She stayed where she was and he said, "Hold tight, honey, we'll get you out of here. But we have to stay low, okay?"

She nodded, eyes locked on the big black stripe that went all around his yellow hat. With his hat and the heavy coat he was wearing, he looked like a miner. But why would a miner be in her bedroom? And why was he wearing a coat when it was so hot? It was almost too much for her to stay under her princess-adorned quilt. He pulled the quilt down and pulled her to the side of the bed, letting her fall gently to the floor. "You okay?" he said.

She nodded and he fumbled with something by his side. Naomi was scared again, but only for a moment. He put the thing over her mouth and nose and told her to hold it there. She did as she was told, never taking her eyes from where his face was supposed to be. "We're going to get out of here as quick as a flash, okay? But we're going to have to crawl at first, because there's a lot of really hot air over our heads."

"Make us cough," she managed in her small, scared voice.

"Yeah," he said. "I don't know about you, but I hate to cough. So we'll just stay low, okay?"

She nodded. He bundled her to his chest, holding her with one arm and making a tent over her body with his own. He crawled on his one free hand and knees, moving through the small bedroom with a speed that almost made Naomi feel like she was on some kind of weird amusement park ride. She wrapped her arms around the monster-man's neck and held on as tight as she could. The thing he'd fastened on her face was slipping and she tried to rearrange it.

"No, honey, you have to keep that on," he said as he covered her hand with his big, thick glove. "I know it's uncomfortable, but it's better than what's out here."

As he crawled out of her room, she saw the living room and kitchen of their little flat. That over there was where Mummy did her crossword puzzles and looked in the dictionary because that was learning, not cheating. Something smelled bad, like when Mummy 'screwed up' in the kitchen and they ordered pizza for dinner.

Now they were in the hallway and she could see doors to the flat across the stairway. It had been broken. Maybe by the monster-man. Maybe they were taking everyone away. She felt scared, remembering all the scary stories her Mummy sometimes told her. She didn't want to be holding onto the monster-man anymore, she didn't want to be in this nasty hall and she wanted to be in her bed looking up at the stars like-

"You like stars?" the monster-man asked.

Naomi jumped, afraid that he could read her mind and she shuddered.

"I saw the posters in your bedroom when I was coming to get you. You like stars?"

"Mummy put up a solar system in my bedroom."

"Did she? I missed that. Will you show me when we get your home all fixed up?"

Fixed up? What did that mean? She nodded even though she wasn't sure and then pushed her face against his neck despite how scared she was. The thing on her mouth and nose pressed into her skin and she wanted to yank it off but was scared of what the monster-man might do if she did. Now that they were on the stairs, he wasn't crawling anymore.

Over his shoulder, it looked like the upstairs of their building was disappearing in fog.

'Like Alice,' she thought, remembering the book she'd just finished reading. 'She followed someone away from home, too, only I don't think the white rabbit was quite as scary as the monster-man.'

"My sister bought me a telescope one year for Christmas. Just sits in the corner of my living room collecting dust."

"Mummy gave me a telescope."

"Really? What kind is it?"

She rattled off the details her Mummy had taught her. She didn't know what they meant, but she'd seemed so proud when she presented it to her. She knew it was probably more than they could afford, so she had jumped up and down and kissed her on the cheek and said he was the best Mummy in the whole world.

They were outside and it was so cold! She clung to the monster-man, mostly because he was still warm, and he carried her across the car park. There were so many cars, so much loud noise all around... she was starting to get scared when she heard her Mummy's voice across the packed car park.

"Naomi...? Naomi!"

She twisted in the man's arms and looked frantically for her Mum. She was in her pyjamas and running barefoot towards her. The monster-man released her and her Mummy wrapped her arms around her at the same instant. She hugged her, smelling her smell instead of the stinky smoke smell of the monster-man. "They wouldn't let me go back in," her Mummy was saying over and over again.

Her Mum was stroking her hair, crying really loud and Naomi wondered if the monster-man had broken something in the apartment. It was so loud and so bright! Why was everything so loud when it was still the middle of the night?

They sat in the back of a big, bright truck that was red on the outside and very, very white on the inside. She sat on her Mummy's knee because she didn't seem to want to let her go. She spotted the monster-man a few feet away, recognizing him because of his gloves; the little finger was torn and ragged. She remembered seeing that finger in her bedroom.

As she watched, the man took off his hat and put it down on the back of a big red truck with a ladder on top. He yanked on something that was on his head - it looked like a stretchy sock - and a wave of black hair appeared. Someone walked past him and he turned, smiling at the other man's comment. Naomi frowned, leaning to one side to look at the man's face.

"What is it, honey?" her Mum said quietly, rubbing her back between her shoulders. "What are you looking at?"

"That man."

"What about him?" her Mummy asked.

"He's..." Naomi screwed her face up and tilted her head, trying to find the right word. "He's just... an ordinary man."

"No, honey," her mother smiled, cradling her head to her chest. "He's an ordinary man who does special things, he brought you back to me. He's my hero."

Naomi stared at the man for a while while her mummy stroked her hair and decided her mum was right on this too.

_**x-0-x** _

**"Oh, mama, I'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law..."**

She hummed the next line, walking confidently down the narrow corridor between the empty offices. Her shoes made hollow, echoing claps against the bare walls. The doors had all been removed from their hinges, leaving all the offices open like cells in a prison. All the 9 to 5 prisoners were long-gone by now, of course. All that remained was an occasional chair, one desk without any drawers and a chair that she had rolled back and forth in for about twenty minutes before becoming bored.

The last office had been that of the company's manger, long before the company moved to a better building. She had the jerry can tucked under her arm and she put it down where the manager's desk had once been. She didn't remember who sang the song she was humming; Styx? Sounded right. A good old classic oldie.

She looked out the window, down at the abandoned parking area. The building was dead; grass shooting up between the cement squares. The white lines marking spaces had long since faded, the street-level walls defaced by graffiti and gang signs. She pursed his lips. The building had been dead too long; it was time to give it life. She turned and walked back to the jerry can, picking it up and splashing some in a circle around herself. "Law man has put an end to my running and I'm so far from my home," she sang, stepping out of the circle and leaving the office. The can was again under her arm, only this time it was backwards, upside-down. It left a wet, pungent trail behind her as she sang softly to herself.

When the can was empty, she hurled it across the wide open area that had once been separated into cubicles. It landed with a loud clatter and she reached into one pocket. The matches were from a bar she'd never been to before; a crowded place where the bartender would never be able to pick her out of a line-up. Not that the matches would ever be traced back to anyone. She was smarter than that.

She lit one match, tucking it into the cover and laying it on the floor. It was close enough to the end of the gas trail that, when the flame reached the other matches and blew them, it would ignite. Then it was a matter of dominoes... fire moving down the hall, much as she had moments ago, leaving ashes in its wake as it rampaged through each room.

Tucking her hands into her pockets, she turned and walked down the stairs. "The jig is up, the news is out, they finally found me... The renegade who had it made retrieved for a bounty," she sang. She loved the song for its irony; she was one renegade they would never find. Not until it was either too late or she had chosen to put an end to her running on her own terms.

She left the building, looking up as she headed across the car park. A small flicker in a top-office window. Years ago, it could have denoted a night owl burning both ends of the candle. Now, it signified the return of life to an empty husk in a deprived area. She hurried across the street and hoped a concerned citizen was looking the right direction. Timing was everything. If she didn't hear sirens soon, she would have to-

Ahhh, there. Sirens. Right on schedule, the good men and women of Merseyside's Fire & Rescue Service were on their way to put out the blaze. Had there been smoke detectors? Her plan relied on a watchful civilian, but a smoke detector was all the better. It just meant her game could begin that much earlier.

The big red truck pulled in through the chain link fence, parking on the side of the building she'd just exited. She settled into the nest she'd built for herself, smiling broadly as she watched the yellow-jackets buzz around like bees, doing what they'd been trained to do... put the wet stuff on the red stuff... She took note of the names on the backs of their coats: McCLAIR, COOK, TOMONE, JONES, CAMPBELL...

Oh she was going to have fun, this was only the start of things for her new pet.


	2. Ordinary Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is set in my real life workplace (I'm a firefighter lol) As you can imagine, we sometimes get hurt in work etc without any warning that its going to happen. I rarely post warnings on this in fics as I think being told what's going to happen in advance, well, it spoils the story (personally I HATE spoilers...)
> 
> That said, anything that could need a trigger warning WILL be given one, promise.
> 
> I've had the most lovely and touching note from NaomilyLover43098745236. You will know how this ends I promise, I can only hope it lives up to your expectations!! And thank you for your kind and moving words, I'm glad I somehow helped you.

It had taken her the better part of a year, but Naomi Campbell had finally found the perfect route. She'd tried using the treadmills at the local gym, but it was too monotonous for her tastes, and she only used them in the winter when she had to. She had tried running around her neighborhood, but too many single (and not so single) men had taken an interest in her for that to last too long, and her area wasn't that great. Finally, she had discovered the footpath through Princess Park into Sefton Park suited her needs perfectly; nice location with plenty of gorgeous scenery, quiet but not abandoned, just enough hills and flats and the perfect length.

It wound through the park, following the small bubbling stream for a while before they parted ways and eventually crossed each other again with a small footbridge close to the Palm House. Half of the trail was in a sparsely wooded area, providing shade when the sun was too strong and a windbreak when it was too cold. The first and last portion of the path was flanked on either side by modern sculptures and picnic benches and tables. A few of the regulars sometimes waved at Naomi and she always returned it with a cheerful greeting of her own. The main draw of the path, however, was not the scenery or the company.

As she neared the front gate of the park, her body began to slow almost of its own free will. She stepped onto the pavement and turned to the right, ducking across another path that led to the lake and into the small café that she'd happened upon while scouting running locations.

There was already one customer, so she stepped into line and checked her pulse. By the time she'd counted off a minute, the first customer was gone and Peter was smiling at her from behind the cash register. "Peter," she said, pulling the iPod plugs from her ears. He extended a tall, disposable cup of cappuccino over the counter and she took it greedily. "Saint Peter," she amended.

"Light of my life," Peter said. "Give me two reasons why we don't run off and get married somewhere. I'm thinking Brighton or Gretna Green."

"Two reasons," Naomi said as she took that nearly-religious first sip of her coffee, humming with happiness at the smell of the java. She leaned against the counter and ticked off the reasons on her fingers. "Okay, how about the fact that your father would kill you if you abandoned his café?"

Peter made a rude sound and then said, "Next?"

"Are we ignoring the gay thing?" she asked.

"Yes, the gay thing doesn't count as a reason."

She pretended to think a moment before she tapped the counter with one knuckle. "I got it. Michael!"

Peter's eyes grew wide and he made a 'cut-it-out' gesture by slashing a finger across his throat. The door to the kitchen area of the café swung open and a muscular man in a blue t-shirt peered out. Peter looked nervously at him and waved nonchalantly. "Hey, Mike... Naomi here was just gonna tell you how she wanted to start paying for her coffees."

Naomi smirked and said, "Sorry, Mike. Never mind."

Michael rolled his eyes and made a chatter-box motion with his hand before he disappeared again. Peter glared at her and said, "Never nice to play like that, girl."

She gave him a thumbs-up and playfully stuck her tongue out at him before stepping to the side, allowing his next customer to step up to the counter. The woman ordered and Peter moved to the cappuccino machine. "You got a shift today?" he asked, looking at Naomi over the counter display.

She nodded as she sipped her coffee. "Yeah, a night, 4.30 till 7am."

Peter gave her a stricken look. "So I won't be seeing your gorgeous face tomorrow morning? How will I cope?"

"I'm sure you'll survive. If not, I'll make sure Michael throws you a very melodramatic funeral. Besides, I may not be running much longer anyway if the temperature keeps dropping." It was still warm for mid-September, but before long going outside in shorts and a t-shirt would be a definite no-no. "And hey, you never know... I may have a chance to stop in tomorrow despite the shift. They're jerking me around again, so I may be out and about."

"Another inspection?"

"Mm-hmm," Naomi said as she took another drink.

"They're swine, all of them. Big, fat, rutting pigs is all they are," Peter scoffed as he handed the next customer her drink. "Thank you, come again!" he said. "So these inspections... anything special?"

She shook it off. "Nah, just some regular old lame fire inspections. Go look at a new building, make sure it conforms to the fire code... counting sprinklers, checking all of the fire exits, that sort of thing."

"Pays your dues, I guess," he said.

"Yeah, but you'd think my dues would be paid off by now."

"The interest on dues, sweetheart," he exhaled and said, "It's the worst in the business."

Naomi laughed and raised her cup to him. "Thanks for the lifeblood," she said as she headed for the door. "Apologize to Michael for the teasing."

"Oh, he knows," Peter laughed, waving her off.

She walked down the street, checking her watch and making a mental note about her time. She hadn't beaten her personal best, but she wasn't slacking off, either. She found her 4x4 right where she'd parked it - a minor miracle in some parts of this neighbourhood; and climbed inside, seeing that she had a whole hour to make the twenty five minute trip to the fire station.

Turning the key, she revved the engine and decided to try for another personal best.

_**x-0-x** _

The tires of her Nissan squealed in protest as it lurched into her regular space, next to McClair's Jeep and a few spaces down from the guv's truck. As she climbed out, she saw that she'd managed to make the trip in just less than eighteen minutes. She smiled, making a mental note that her personal best was now one minute lower and headed for the main doors of the building.

The station house was a squat, two-story unimpressive looking building. The edge of the building extended around the car park like a bony finger, separating it from the driveway. As she rounded the extension, she spotted the guv, Tomone, sitting in a white lawn chair just outside of the apparatus bay. He was with Freddie McClair and JJ Jones, the probie, and he was the only one seated. The other two firefighters flanked him like guards in some Arthurian legend.

"You always drive like that?" he asked, not taking his eyes off the highway.

"Only when I'm trying to beat a record, guv."

He smirked and nodded without chastising or praising her for her reckless behaviour. She nodded to McClair and Jones, both of whom offered a wave, as she headed inside. "You guys been here long?" she asked. They were on-shift with her and weren't acting as if they had just arrived.

McClair smirked at her. "You may have beaten your personal best, Campbell..."

"...But the boys still have the title," Jones finished.

Naomi laughed, still amazed at how the probie had started finishing McClair's sentences. Pretty soon, the two would become inseparable. Thoughts of possible nicknames for the two were already the source of several contests throughout the house. The most popular at the moment seemed to be Pinky and Perky, while Naomi was a proponent of the Muppets characters Statler and Waldorf. Nothing had been decided upon yet, so they were still just McClair and the Probie.

The lockers were located along the far wall of the apparatus bay in a foxhole-like depression that was covered by a wooden awning. Naomi slipped down the three steps, and passed James Cook on her way to her locker. She tossed her bag into the cubby hole and turned back to the Leading firefighter He was hunched over on the bench, reaching down to lace up a pair of boots.

"Planning on a hike?" she asked as she opened her locker. She peeled off her exercise shirt without hesitation; Cook had seen her in her underwear too many times for her to worry about a sports bra. She yanked a t-shirt over her head and squirmed into a pair of trousers as Cook tightened the laces on his boots.

"Like 'em?" he said. He sat up, angling his foot this way and that so she could see the bright new leather. He stood and worked his right foot back and forth. "Just got 'em. Thought I'd test them out tonight, see how they stood up to a little pressure."

"Here's hoping," Naomi said. She shut her locker door and said, "Has the boss said anything about the inspections?"

"Yup. He told me who it was that called."

Naomi closed her eyes. "Oh, no. Please, tell me it's not..."

"Sorry, blondie. It was the revered Ms... Moore," Cook said in a tone that most people reserved for Hitler and their mothers-in-law.

Naomi shuddered and said, "How many damn buildings can one woman's family business design for fucks sake?"

"Hey, the woman is an entrepreneur," he shrugged. He picked up his Thermos and hoisted it to her. "And guess who she requested do the inspection?"

"McClair. Please, tell me she requested the Fredster"

Cook held his hands out in a 'what-can-I-say' gesture and shook his head. "Sorry, Naom's."

Naomi sighed and slammed her locker door as Cook made a hasty retreat. Inspections were bad enough. Inspections for Sophia Moore were as close to torture as she'd ever gotten. Ever since they'd met, she had harboured a crush on her. She'd been subtle, she'd been harsh... she was thinking it was time to just slap the woman across the face and tell her flat out that she wasn't interested. But, as Peter had said, it paid her dues. She would just have to grin and bear it.

She left her grumblings behind in the locker area and headed to the guv's office to sign in. She was halfway across the apparatus bay when the alarm bell came to life.

She moved without thinking, already standing over her bunkers before she consciously realized she was going to work. Cook fell in right next to her. He yanked his bunker pants up in one smooth motion and climbed into the truck without his jacket or helmet on. Tomone's position was that if you could do it while standing around, you could do it in the truck. Naomi followed him into the cab and slipped her arms through the loops of her pack just as McClair climbed into the driver's seat.

"You ready to fly, brothers?" he called over his shoulder.

Naomi, not knowing whether he'd forgotten she was already there or just lumping her in with the boys, said, "What're you waiting for, a green light?"

"Not on your life, Naomi," McClair laughed. Jones had just barely made it into the cab before McClair launched the truck forward. Naomi braced herself against the wall of the cab with one hand and smiled. McClair whooped and banged the roof with his fist, watching his mirrors for signs of other vehicles around.

"Where is the fire, m'man, just tell me where to aim this thing!" McClair laughed, huge face splitting grin on his face, drumming his hands on the wheel.

Naomi was seated with her back to the driver, unable to see into the cab without turning around. And if she bothered to go that far, she would immediately check the speedometer. No way was their speed legal. She looked over her shoulder and asked Cook, "Where is the fire?"

"399 Scottie Road," Cook replied, referring to the map he had folded in his lap. "The old abandoned industrial park. Slight possibility of squatters, but otherwise..."

Naomi nodded and tightened her air pack. They would still have to go in and check. A cursory look if nothing else. Next to her, Jones had his eyes closed, bobbing from side-to-side with the sway of the truck. The last time they'd gone out, she had punched him playfully and told him to wake up before he missed the fire, only to find out he'd been praying. In retrospect, the black Sharpie-drawn cross on the back of his helmet should have clued her in. She turned away and let him finish his prayer in peace.

"Damn it, McClair," Cook hissed. "Do you even see these damn people on the road in front of you?"

"I save their lives when they in fire," McClair said, "but if they in front of me, they just collateral damage."

Naomi shook her head, marveling at how the man's language suffered when he became over-excited. The eloquent man who had, in a calmer moment, recited Puck's monologue from the end of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' was reduced to a whooping and hollering madman in the darkest mental ward, he made Cook look sane. Naomi leaned forward and looked through the window, seeing pedestrians standing on the pavement with dazed looks on their faces. Probably counting their blessings that they had just avoided being crushed by several tons of screaming fire engine.

"Have you ever been in an accident?" Jones called, eyes still tightly closed although Naomi assumed he had finished praying. He had been in the station long enough to become friends with McClair, but until a day or two ago he'd been assigned to a different watch.

"I've been in lots of accidents," McClair admitted over his shoulder. "But none that were my fault."

Jones looked sceptically at Naomi, who nodded, snorted out loud and confirmed, "It's true. Every accident he's been, he was the victim."

"Unbelievable," Jones muttered as he closed his eyes once more. His lips started to move and she knew he'd found something else to pray for. 'By the way, God, about the lunatic driving this engine...'

Cook was on the radio, informing nearby companies that they were responding. McClair made a sharp turn onto a side road and almost tossed them all to the floor. Jones exhaled sharply and Naomi reached over, patting him on the back. She was worried that most of his probationary period would be used getting accustomed to the way McClair drove.

The industrial park flanked the lower end of Anfield like a limpet, clinging to the more successful suburbs of the town, if there was such a thing in the area. Large trees loomed on three sides of the park, giving the entire area the feeling of a severely underdeveloped neighbourhood It was only when you looked closer that you saw the cracks; dozens of the sprawling, brick-and-concrete buildings were abandoned, their chain-link fences locked, their car parks littered with rubbish and fly tipping and festooned with sprigs of grass that poked up between the slabs of pavement.

Fortunately, the building interesting them today was unlocked and the fence was standing wide open. She'd seen McClair ram through a chained gate with the truck once and, while it had been amusing, she didn't want to witness another bollocking by Tomone.

She watched through the window as the burning building came into sight. McClair slowed to a stop as they rolled across the car park, the tires of their truck rocking over the broken and uneven pavement. He drove past the front face in order to get a look at the third side, as required. It was a two-story warehouse, surrounded on all sides by a parking area overgrown with weeds. Half the windows on the upper level were shattered, although it was unlikely they had been broken by any explosion; the building had been a wreck for a long, long time.

Cook jumped from the truck and followed Naomi and Jones towards the gear box as the engine pulled into the lot. "Get the ladder up... Jones, McClair, I want a hole on that roof."

Naomi nodded and looked up at the building. "Squatters?" she asked.

"Don't know. I'm sending McClair and the probie up to the roof to vent."

"We're not doing a steam attack?" Jones asked.

Cook scoffed. "You worried about water damage in this heap?" He motioned to Naomi and said, "Campbell, you're going in with me to search."

"Yes, sir," Naomi said. She took off her helmet and fitted a breathing mask over her face in one quick move. Making sure the strap was tight, she replaced her helmet.

Cook did the same, turning as the Tomone's bright red Merseyside Fire and Rescue pick up pulled into the area followed by a second engine. When Cook spoke, his voice was heavily filtered through the oxygen mask. "McClair, fill the guv in on the plan before you set that ladder up. We'll keep in contact."

Freddie nodded and carried on with his orders as Thomas approached him while Naomi followed Cook towards the front door of the warehouse. They walked along the side of the building, looking into each window they passed to gauge the extent of the fire. "Some bastard set this," Cook muttered. "Fire don't spread that way naturally." He stopped a few feet shy of the door and held up a hand to let Naomi know they weren't going in that way. He leaned against a broken window and peered inside.

Naomi looked past him and saw that the fire had spread across the concrete floor, without a doubt following the trail of some sort of accelerant. Cook may play the fool most of the time, but he knew his stuff and was right; no way had this fire started accidentally. The blaze reached right up for the front door, meaning they would have walked into an inferno if they had gone that route.

"Front door's a no-go," Cook said. "We're going in here."

Naomi thumbed her radio as Cook threw a leg over the sill. "Campbell to Officer Tomone; Cook and I are entering the building through a broken window on the main level."

"I see you, Campbell," Thomas's reply came back. "McClair's getting the roof ventilated and we're going to be setting up the fans on the ground for you. Be careful OK?"

"Much obliged guv, will do" Cook replied.

Naomi climbed in after him, taking a quick look around to get her bearings. The main floor of the warehouse was basically one huge room; a block of offices on the opposite side of the building were the only interior walls she could see. An exposed steel staircase hugged another wall, leading up to the first floor. "We have about a half-dozen offices over here," Cook said through his mask, motioning for Naomi to take the opposite end. "You go there, I'm there," he said.

She nodded and headed in the direction he'd indicated. She was thankful that the smoke was still sparse enough that she could see him through it; she'd been in several fires where it was impossible to see two feet in front of you. She got to the first office and tried the handle, finding it locked. Thinking a squatter may be inside and using the lock to protect what little possessions he had, she banged her palm loudly against the wall shouting out, "Fire and Rescue! Anyone in there?"

No reply. She reached for her belt, groaning when she realized that one loop was unoccupied. "Yo, Cookie. Loan me the hooligan."

Cook unhooked a long bar from his belt and tossed it across the distance between them. She snatched the halligan, or hooligan to most of the people in the company, beneath the two-pronged head. The tool had two blades on the business end, one curved and sharp, the other straight and sharp like a spike. The bottom of the tool was curved like the claw of a hammer. She turned the tool over and slipped the claw between the door and its frame, shoving the bar with both hands. The door cracked and swung open, revealing nothing but a few cardboard boxes marked LDI and scattered papers with the same name at the top.

"Nothing here," she reported.

"Ditto," Cook said. He moved to one of the inner offices and pushed the door open. He was greeted by a wave of fire, blowing out like the exhale of a dragon. Naomi took a step back, staring wide-eyed as Cook dropped screaming. The door he'd opened was now awash with flame, the backdraft reaching out and igniting his uniform.

Naomi's stupor lasted almost two seconds before she was on top of Cook. She smothered the flames licking his jacket with her own bunker coat as Cook screamed and slapped at his own uniform. As she slapped his shoulder, the flame spread down her own glove.

Cook tried to push her off and screamed something through his fogged mask, but she wouldn't leave. When she'd quieted the flames on his clothes, she rolled to the side to avoid the flames licking at her back and pressed herself against the concrete floor. The entire bank of offices was awash in flame now, a wall of fire that looked impossibly high as oxygen continued to feed the fire.

She grabbed the back of Cook's collar and began scrambling backwards like a crab, dragging him along with her. Cook was squirming, still slapping himself and trying to extinguish fire that may have gotten into the lining of his uniform. Either that or he was panicking, which frightened Naomi more than the alternative. "Cookie's hurt! We're coming out!" she called through her radio. She rolled Cook and got her arms under him to load him through the window first.

As she stood, powerful arms gripped her shoulders and hoisted her the rest of the way out, practically carrying her a few feet before dropping her roughly on the ground. "You all right?" Dan, a firefighter she knew from the second engine asked her, screaming to be heard through both of their masks.

She motioned behind her and said, "Cookie's burnt."

"Paramedic's got him. Are you all right?"

"I'm..." she looked down and saw her right glove was completely charred. Cinders had poured from the cuff and down her sleeve and she was only just now feeling the burn as they skittered across her forearm. She stretched her arm out and shook it wildly as Dan tugged her glove off.

"OI!" he shouted over his shoulder. As they ran over, he patted her on the shoulder. "You'll be good, Campbell," he said. "Good work getting Cook out of there."

"McClair and the probie," she asked, ignoring his praise and looking towards the roof.

"Both fine. They sorted the ventilation and got the hell out of there."

She nodded and collapsed on the ground, arms spread out to either side. She took a moment, breathing hard and staring at the bright afternoon sky. When she got her breath back, she rolled onto her side and pushed herself up. She made sure she could trust her knees and made her way over to the engine. McClair and Jones were standing against the engine, watching as the crew from the second engine got their lines laid and aimed streams of high-pressured water into the flaming shell of a building.

"How badly was Cook burnt?" she asked.

McClair motioned at the ambulance. "Looked okay to me, but they're making a pretty big fuss about him. We'll never hear the end of it you know."

Tomone was staring at the ambulance as he approached them. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and said, "Cookie monster will be fine," he said, his casual use of the man's nickname indicating that the crisis was over. He nodded at Naomi and said, "Campbell. Go to the hospital with him."

"I'm fine," Naomi said.

"You get hurt?" Jones asked.

"Dan Fleming saw your gloves. Probably a few embers down in your suit," Tommo said. He put his hand on Naomi's shoulder and gently guided her in the direction of the medic truck. "Naomi. Just go, get yourself checked out and... keep James from accosting the paramedic for Christ's sake."

Reluctantly, Naomi turned and headed for the ambulance. She was halfway there when one of the reporters, from the local paper she assumed, thrust a microphone towards her from the other side of the barriers. The woman's body was pressed tightly against the chain link fencing, her arm outstretched through a hole in the fence as if she might stretch the thirty foot between them. "Excuse me, excuse me, are you the firefighter who made the rescue?"

Naomi motioned over her shoulder and said, "Nah, not me. You're looking for Firefighter Snipe. I saw him back that way."

She walked on and climbed into the back of the ambulance. She knelt on the runner next to the trolley and scanned Cook's body. He had been burnt on the neck and face, his ears a bright red with black flakes on the lobes. It hurt to look at, but Naomi kept her eyes on his and managed a smile. "How you doing, Cookie?" she asked.

He grinned at her, "You see the paramedic I got?" he whistled and quickly added, "I got dibs on her."

Naomi held her hands up as if to say 'no contest' and Cook's eyes moved to her hand. "Jesus, Campbell..."

She dropped her injured hand back to her lap and said, "It's nothing, Cook, don't worry about it."

He nodded and said, "The Echo reporters didn't get ya, did they?"

"I told them firefighter Snipe did the rescue," she said with a grin.

"Sent 'em on a snipe hunt," Cook laughed. "Beautiful. Ooh, and speaking of beautiful..." He motioned with his chin at the back door of the truck. Naomi turned and saw a blonde paramedic climbing into the back, skirting the edge of the trolley to sit opposite Naomi.

"How bad?" the new arrival asked with her eyes on Naomi's wrist.

"Nothing to worry about. Couple of bandages... I'll be fine."

"We'll let the doctor be the judge of that," the paramedic said. "You two fancy a ride to the hospital?"

"I'm fine," Naomi insisted. "Just slap a little gauze on there, maybe a bandage..."

Cook muttered, "Tommo said something about drills later tonight."

Naomi immediately shifted gears. "But you know, you are the expert and if you think we need a trip to the hospital..."

Cook graced them with a full-fledged Cookie monster grin. "I call shotgun."

_**x-0-x** _

Cook was taken to a burn unit after giving his details to the admissions clerk, wheeled into the lift by his newest crush, the blonde paramedic. As she pushed him towards the elevator, Cook winked at Naomi and said, "Don't be offended, Naoms. She just wants to get me all to herself."

Naomi flipped him off with her unburned hand and sat on the bed the girl had pointed her to, cut off from the world by the curtain drawn around the small area. She didn't have to wait long; a few minutes after Cook's grinning mug was rolled into the lift, the curtain was pushed aside and a petite redhead appeared, her face buried in a chart, head down as she walked in. "Naomi Campbell?" she asked, finally looking up with a raised eyebrow and meeting Naomi's eyes.

Naomi was stunned; the doctor put Cook's paramedic to shame. Her eyes were so dark brown they were practically black, her long red hair pulled back into a ponytail that was in danger of coming loose any moment. Her skin was still slightly tanned, despite the calendar inching towards October. Naomi managed to blink and mumble a quick, "Hi."

"Hi," the doctor unleashed a grin that knocked Naomi for another loop. "I'm Dr. Fitch. You're the one with the..." She looked down at the notes. "Burnt wrist?"

Naomi looked down at her arm and saw the burns that had traced a skipping trail from her wrist down to her elbow. "Um... lower arm, really."

"Oh," she said. "Must be another firefighter named the same as a supermodel. I'm sorry for the confusion." She slipped back around the curtain.

Panicked, Naomi jumped from the bed to catch up with the small doctor... and came up short when she found Dr. Fitch standing just on the other side of the curtain. Naomi blushed behind the soot on her face and tried to look casual as the doctor tried valiantly to refrain from laughing in her face.

After a moment, Naomi said, "I was just... thinking. I mean... I guess you could say this is my wrist."

"Excellent," Dr. Fitch said as she led Naomi back around the curtain. "In that case, I think we may have something to work with."

_**x-0-x** _

The digital age was the impatient arsonist's dream. No need to wait until the pictures were developed to see how they turned out. Plus, there were more options on how to develop them... no longer did she have to worry about a nosy photo assistant at Boots or Asda getting suspicious of her. Nor did she have to splurge on a dark room to develop them herself. Just plug it into the computer, fiddle with some settings and presto!

She sat in the dirt with her legs crossed Indian-style, thumbing the "Next Picture" button next to the display screen.

It was still the afternoon, so she was hunkered down in a recessed stairway that led to an abandoned basement. She was on the property next to the burnt husk, trying to keep from giggling in happiness as she looked at her latest creations.

She had been surprised when the hero firefighter had removed their helmet and revealed herself to be the woman with the supermodels name, Campbell. It was nigh impossible to tell when they were all geared up in their bunkers... gender and race-free, like a group of little robots programmed to jump into action whenever their smoke-detectors went off.

Little bugs. Little meaningless things that would be replaced in an instant if one fell.

She felt no remorse for the trap she'd set, wouldn't admit to any remorse even if confronted with photos of the injured firefighter's partner, two kids and pet Dalmatian dog. Firefighters were cockroaches. Kill one, two more crawled out of the woodwork.

They were the perfect sacrifices for her fires.

No one had died in this blaze, but that was okay... for now...she supposed. It was only her second big fire. Mistakes might have been made, but they were lessons she could learn from.

She would correct them next time.

Tucking her camera into her rucksack, she lifted herself onto her toes and peered over the lip of the underground staircase. Firefighters were still swarming the site, even though the fire was long extinguished. She understood. They were getting all the crap and junk out, hoping to prevent a re-ignition. They were probably were also trying to figure out why their poor friend had almost been chargrilled.

She settled back down and pressed herself into a corner, tucking both hands under her armpits was warmth. She couldn't leave until the firefighters left or she risked being spotted. It was okay; she had planned for a long night. She closed her eyes and nearly fell asleep, jerking when she realized she couldn't be found this close to the site of a fire. If she slept, they could sneak up on her

Slapping her face a few times, blinking her eyes wide, she wrapped her arms around herself and rocked slowly as she waited for the crowd to disperse so she could slip away unseen. Patience was a virtue, but she needed to go...

She would not be caged for much longer, it was almost time to leave, another thirty minutes if that.

And she had more fires to plan.


	3. Fallopian Tubing and Long Stands

A blue and white name tag swung precariously from the flap of the doctor's white lab coat. It read "E Fitch." As Dr. Fitch treated and bandaged her arm, Naomi played a little game with herself trying to determine what the initial stood for. The doctor didn't look like an Ethel or Enfield. Enid certainly didn't seem right either. They chatted about inane things, the conversation mostly veering towards the heroic firefighter Snipe the local paper and radio station were trying to find and interview, only managing to proclaim on the radio playing through the department that he was a hero.

When the bandage was neatly finished, Dr. Fitch looked at her work and said, "These burns... did you receive them while helping Snipe?"

Naomi smirked. "Actually... I feel kind of bad breaking this to you, but..."

"Snipe doesn't exist?" Fitch said. She raised her eyebrows and curled her lips in a knowing smile, the chocolate brown eyes dancing with amusement.

Naomi laughed. "How did you know?"

"I was sent on a snipe hunt once. Med school. They sent me off in search of Fallopian tubing and a long stand"

Naomi laughed out loud and nodded. The red head grinned and said, "After that, I swore I'd never again fall for a snipe hunt." She glanced conspiratorially over her shoulder and stepped closer to the bed, overwhelming the firefighters senses with her delicate perfume. "So were you the one who saved him?"

"I went in with Cook yeah. I saw him get engulfed and just did what I was supposed to. It's my job."

"Modest much?" Emily asked.

Naomi shrugged. "It's not modesty so much as... I don't want the recognition, I just want to do my job. There was a guy during training who told us that we weren't training to be heroes, we were training to be firefighters. He wanted to make sure we got that through our heads right off. A couple of years ago, Thommo was involved in a rescue. He told a reporter that Snipe had done it. It kind of steam-rolled from there."

"No one's figured out that this guy doesn't exist?"

"As far as they knows, he's just a very secretive guy. His phone number is unlisted; he likes his privacy and his friends respect that. He rotates from station to station and watch to watch too." She grinned. "He sure does get around".

The doctor laughed. "Brilliant strategy. By heaping the glory on the fictional guy, you get privacy for yourselves."

Naomi rocked slightly on the edge of the bed before sliding to the floor. "You know, I really am fine... I shouldn't keep you. There are probably other patients..."

"Yeah, just a few," the petite beauty grinned as she unconsciously ran a hand gently over the bandage on Naomi's arm. "If you're sure you're okay?"

"Well, I'm not exactly thrilled to leave," Naomi smiled. "But I really shouldn't monopolize your time."

"Okay, then." She nodded at the lift. "By the way, if you wanted to go say hi to your friend, I'm sure they wouldn't gripe too much. Just so long as you keep it short."

"Okay, yeah. Thank you."

"No problem, Ms. Campbell."

"Call me Naomi," she said, unsure of what prompted her to say it, but compelled to make the petite woman smile, laugh or talk again.

The doctor nodded. "Okay. Naomi. In that case, I'm Emily."

'Emily, so that's what the E stood for.' Naomi thought, watching the other woman walk away. 'I have a new favourite name.'

_**x-0-x** _

Cook was in the burn unit, his neck and ears wrapped by thick bandages. His eyes cut to the door when she walked in, his lips pulling back in a fierce grimace. He jabbed a finger in her direction and sneered, "You! I've been looking for you!"

"What did I do?" Naomi asked, shocked.

"My boots! My brand-new boots! Ruined!" He slapped the bed. "Ruined, I say!"

Naomi laughed, "Okay, I apologize for not dragging you from the fire feet first. I'll know better next time." She approached the bed and rested her uninjured hand on the railing while keeping the other behind her back. "Beyond that, how are you doing?"

"My ears, neck, bah. Just skin. But those boots. Man, I searched weeks for those boots!" He fake-sobbed, "Those were the perfect boots. And now? Gone. Gone, gone, gone!"

Naomi brought her bandaged hand out from behind her back and placed a teddy bear on the bedside table. The bear's tiny plush paws were wrapped around an ice cream she had smuggled into the ward. Cook's eyes widened and he said, "But boots come and go. Friends. Friends are forever." He licked his lips and asked hopefully, "Are you gonna spoon-feed your poor, disabled friend?"

"No," Naomi said. "And that's non-negotiable."

"I'm injured!" Cook whined.

"Which is precisely the reason I asked a registered medical professional to assist you." She stepped to one side and said, "Sarah?"

The paramedic from earlier came into the room and smiled warily down at the injured man. "She swears to me you're a good guy."

Cook beamed.

"Get well soon, James"

"Yeah," Cook scoffed, eyeing Sarah. "Like I have an incentive to leave this place..."

_**x-0-x** _

Thomas had dropped in to see Cook as Naomi left, telling her to wait for him for a lift back to work. It was still only 6pm as she stood in the shadow of his truck and watched a group of auxiliaries catching a secret cigarette in a small area next to the building. Her bunkers were folded nearly in the back of the truck, her equipment weighing the clothes down so they wouldn't fly away. Thankfully she was wearing the trousers and t-shirt she'd been wearing when the call went out.

"Hey," someone beside her said. "Campbell"

She straightened up and had turned around before her brain registered the voice. She smiled and said, "Hello, Dr. Fitch."

"Emily," the doctor reminded her with a shy smile.

"Then you have to call me Naomi," she said. She felt something strange talking to this woman. It was... nice, but uncomfortable at the same time.

Emily nodded. "Okay, Naomi. I was on my way out, saw you standing over here by yourself..." She shrugged and looked across the parking lot. Her hair was getting in her eyes and it took every ounce of restraint in Naomi's body not to reach out and brush it aside. "I don't know, I saw you over here and I was just wondering if you wanted to maybe grab a drink or... or something? There's a pub not far from here or a restaurant..."

Naomi interrupted, "Actually... I'm sorry. I would love to take you up on that, I would, seriously. But I'm... I'm actually still on duty until tomorrow morning."

"Oh," Emily said. She turned away, touching her forehead absently as she desperately sought something else to look at. "I should have realized, I-I just... I didn't think that..."

"It's okay," Naomi said. "I get off tomorrow morning. Maybe we could meet for... for some lunch, maybe?"

"That would be great," Emily said, her smile returning. Naomi was grateful; anything to see that smile again. "Um... do you have a mobile phone so I can call you to organise or..."

"Yeah, I'll give it you now." Without thinking, she plucked a pen from the breast pocket of Emily's blouse. She blushed slightly when she realized what she had done, quickly recovering and taking the small notepad the brunette offered. "This is for my mobile. You can reach me any time, but if it goes to voice mail..."

"Okay, no problem. And I'll call you if anything comes up to keep me from meeting you."

Naomi nodded, unable to think of anything coherent to say.

Emily took her pen back and glanced at the number before she folded the notebook paper and slipped it into the pocket of her trousers. "So I'll give you a call, let you know where I'll be..." She smiled shyly, "it'll be fun."

"Yeah," Naomi said, still a bit dumbfounded by what was happening. She nervously scratched below the collar of her t-shirt, unsure of a subtle way to ask what she was thinking. Finally, she simply said, "It's... a date, right?"

Emily laughed lightly, her laughter almost musical to the blondes ears. "Yes, Naomi, it's a date."

"A... date like..."

Emily stepped forward and stretched up. She put one hand on Naomi's taller shoulder to balance herself as she pressed her lips gently to her cheek, leaving them lingering there for a second. When they parted, Naomi was blushing and Emily was smiling at the tall woman. "It's a date," Emily said again.

"'Kay," Naomi said quietly.

"I'll see you tomorrow... Firefighter Snipe."

Emily turned and walked across the parking are, waving hello to Thomas as their paths crossed. He used a remote on his keychain to unlock his truck, Naomi clambering into the passenger seat whispering a prayer that he hadn't seen the kiss. When he climbed into the vehicle, he motioned at the retreating doctor with his head. "What'd the doc want?"

"Um... she... Talk. She, uh, talk, yeah, she wanted to talk."

Thomas glanced at her and smiled. "Then it's too bad that she couldn't find anyone who spoke fluent English eh Naomi?"

The blonde rolled her eyes and smiled at the gentle teasing. "Just drive, boss."

_**x-0-x** _

Tomone parked and climbed out, grabbing a bag from the back of the truck before heading towards the apparatus bay. "Guv, if you don't mind... could I beg off the cleaning duties? I was kind of hoping to get Moore out of the way tonight so tomorrow will be all clear."

"Yeah, no probs," he replied. He turned and started walking backwards so he could be facing her as he continued speaking as he reached into the back of his truck and grabbed the tall blondes bunker gear. "Freds and JJ probably took care of all the cleaning by now anyway."

"Because they're so responsible," Naomi nodded.

Thomas laughed his deep booming laugh and waved at her before he disappeared around the brick outcropping. Naomi headed for her Nissan, fishing her mobile phone from her jacket pocket. She dialled Moore's number, sadly from memory, as she unlocked the vehicle. She left the door open as she listened to the phone ring in her ear, dangling her long legs out; grumbling about the fact that she had this moron's number memorised as she searched for a pen. She found a napkin on the passenger seat and wrote, "Emily Fitch – Lunch. DATE" Underlining 'date' several times.

She stuck the note into the cars sun visor as the ringing suddenly stopped. A clipped voice announced, "Sophia Moore."

"Ms. Moore, this is Firefighter Naomi Campbell with Anfield Fire Station. I was wondering if now would be a good time for the inspection you contacted us about." She paused. "I'm sorry it's later than planned."

"Oh! Naomi!"

She cringed at the familiar use of her first name, but decided not to waste her time correcting her. She knew it would do no good. "Yes, Ms. Moore. I meant to stop by earlier, but..."

"Don't be silly. I saw on the news. Is everyone all right?"

"Yes, for the most part," she said with a glance at her bandaged wrist. She had a Mersey Fire and Rescue fleece on the back-seat she could use to cover the damage and avoid any sympathy from the over familiar woman. "I was thinking I could swing by now if you had the address..."

"Oh, yes, certainly." She pulled the reminder from the sun visor and wrote the address below Emily Fitch's name. "I can meet you there in a half hour, if that's all right."

"Sounds perfect. See you then, Naomi."

She jabbed the 'End call' button viciously and fought the urge to curse. She took a deep breath, started the 4x4 and pulled calmly out of her space.

_**x-0-x** _

Sophia Moore was the new boss of development at Moore & Moore Designs, an architectural and redevelopment company that was responsible for helping to redevelop shitty parts of Anfield and other equally shitty and deprived areas of Liverpool for the past decade. Sophia was the daughter of the company's founder and only recently promoted to her current position. Unlike her arsehole father before her, Sophia complied with all the fire safety regulations and welcomed the fire service's routine inspections of the company's newest projects, a one and only singular fact that pleased Naomi.

When her turn had come around to perform a fire check, Naomi had welcomed the break in her day and headed out to give the new building her typical once-over. Unfortunately, Sophia Moore appeared to have fallen head-over-heels for her at first sight. Since that first inspection, she had been requesting that "Firefighter Naomi Campbell be the one to inspect the building." Naomi, seeing no way to refuse without drawing undue attention to herself, bit the bullet and went out, although Freddie and Cook ran interference as often as they could.

She parked in front of the newest building, the banner hanging over the front door proclaiming that it was the future of Anfield Community Living. She paused by the door of her Nissan to pull on the fleece and make sure the sleeve extended far enough to cover her wrist bandage. Done, she headed for the door and pushed the temporary buzzer.

A few seconds after she announced her arrival, Sophia Moore practically skipped down the stairs into the lobby. She brushed aside a plastic sheet hanging in front of the door and smiled at her like a five-year-old presented with a nice, new, shiny toy. She unlocked the door and pushed it open. "Naomi! Welcome!"

"Thank you, Ms. Moore," she said. She hoped by keeping it formal, she would pick up the hint and keep the meeting as strictly business.

Moore was a bookish, thin woman, constantly fidgeting and twitching, the collar of her blouse looking a little wide around her neck, she looked like she needed a good meal. Naomi tepidly shook her outstretched hand before scanning the front of the building. She had a checkpoint list to follow. A few high points, bing, bang, boom, she was out of there.

"So, where would you like to begin, Naomi?"

'Same place we always begin, you little worm,' she thought. Out loud, she simply said, "I just need your forms..."

Moore opened the briefcase she was carrying, balancing it against her thigh as she searched through the pockets. Handing Naomi the building permit and council inspection documents, all of which were required to be turned in, she stood back and watched as the blonde stuck them onto her clipboard without checking them; she knew Moore and knew that everything was in order.

She was just thankful she didn't have the task of doing all of her inspections for all of her buildings. The foundation, plumbing and electrical, floor system, preliminary framing and electrical systems all required their own inspections at various stages of the construction. Moore wasn't present for them, so she didn't request her presence. All she had to do was tour the building, make sure the fire exits were clearly marked, sprinklers and smoke detectors were present and working and walk the perimeter of the roof. Easy as pie. Thank fuck.

If only Sophia Moore wasn't dogging her every step, she might actually find the process relaxing.

_**x-0-x** _

Thirty minutes later they finished their tour where they had started, at the front of the building, and Naomi signed the certificate that gave Moore an inspection pass. Placing it in her file and thanking her for her time, Naomi backed away from the architect invading her personal space and assured her it was no trouble before making a bee-line for the door. Unfortunately, Moore was quicker than she looked and kept up with her easily. "I was wondering, if you have a few moments free, if you'd like to grab a coffee or..."

"I'm sorry Ms Moore. I'm due back at the station."

"Oh. Well, I was just thinking that since you finished the inspection so quickly, you might have a little leeway on when you-"

"I really should get going."

Moore followed her onto the pavement. "Perhaps after your shift, then."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Moore, but I'm afraid I have to decline." Naomi sharpened her voice, hoping this time the message would get through.

Sophia's smile seemed to collapse under its own weight and she nodded. "Okay. Well... yes, of course. I'm sorry to have imposed, Naomi."

She forced a smile as she climbed into her Nissan. "Have a good evening, Ms Moore."

"And you."

Watching the mousey haired woman head back inside as she started the engine, Naomi rested back on the head rest and breathed a sigh of relief. She'd been wondering when Sophia Moore would make the jump and broach the topic of actually going out on a date, despite Naomi's obvious disinterest. Now that it was out there, there was a good chance she would back off. It was a small chance, and she wasn't confident, but it was still there.

As she pulled away from the curb, she realized she had just been asked out twice in one shift. It was a new personal record and, she would have to check with McClair, but it may also be a departmental record. Smiling, she drove back to the firehouse to brag about her double-proposal.

_**x-0-x** _

By the time she got back to the firehouse, the combined pump and ladder truck was absent, most likely responding to a call. Her engine, affectionately called Polly, stood in the centre of the garage, looking lonely and abandoned. Naomi walked past it, giving it a gentle pat before heading for the back of the apparatus area. Three rooms were tucked against the back wall; the game room, with a pool table, Playstation 3 and a dart board was the centre of them. To her right was the 'den,' where they gathered to watch TV and generally relax in between 'shouts'.

To her left was the sleep area and bathroom, both of which were dark at the moment. The bosses office was separate from the other rooms, on the side of the bay opposite the locker area. She could see Tomone through the glass, speaking to someone on the phone. She headed over, knocking on the door frame and mimicking writing a signature. He held up the clipboard to let her know he'd signed her in. She nodded and waved before turning to head back to the den. She could hear McClair inside cursing out his favourite team's manager. She paused in the doorway and watched JJ laugh as yet another player missed an open goal.

"Keep laughing, Probie," McClair grumbled. "I'll get you back at the end of the season."

"You have a serious gambling problem, McClair," Jones said with a shake of his head. "But as long as I'm reaping the benefits, I say live how you wanna live." He had looked back at McClair to deliver this pearl of wisdom and spotted Naomi in the doorway. "Hey, Naomi. How's Cookie doing?"

McClair craned his neck over backwards over the back of the sofa to look at her. "Hey, Campbell. You're upside down again."

Laughing, she put her hand over his face as she walked past and took her regular seat in the recliner. "Don't worry about Cook," she said. "Worry about the poor nurses assigned to his wing."

McClair shook his head, eyes glued to the TV. "Nah. Nothing to worry about."

Naomi arched an eyebrow. "You have met James, right?"

"I'm not saying he won't flirt," McClair started before pausing to consider his words. "Just that it's not going anywhere. These nurses are dressing his wounds, dealing with his burns, peeling off skin if the burns're bad enough." He shuddered and shook his head again. "Trust me. The second someone does something like that to your body? They're never anything more than a lab jacket to you."

Naomi absently touched her bandage through her fleece sleeve, thinking back to Emily Fitches invitation. McClair spewed another curse at the TV and said, "Pricks. Everyone of them. Long-haired, pony-tailed useless wanker."

"How much?" Naomi whispered to JJ.

"Only twenty this time" Jones smirked.

McClair slapped the arm of his chair and shot to his feet, making both Naomi and Jones jump back. He stared at the TV for a few seconds, nostrils flaring, before he turned and stormed out of the den.

"Well he's steamed," Jones said unnecessarily.

Naomi grinned and said, "What about you? You think what Freddie said is true?"

"About what? Andy Carroll being a prick?"

"No, doctors. Do you think you could date a doctor or nurse who treated you?"

Jones shrugged, before running a hand through his unruly curly hair in thought. "Depends on what they treated me for. Broken arm, some heroic derring-do, yeah, I think I could date someone who put me back together. STI, though. I'd most likely steer clear of the doc who helped me out there."

Naomi raised an eyebrow and Jones's eyes widened.

He shifted uncomfortably and hastened to add, "I mean, I would if it ever came up. Hypothetically, right? The whole thing was..." He cleared his throat and said, "Hey, I, uh... you know, never had..."

"Okay, Jonah, I know you're pure." Naomi said. She stood and headed for the door. She patted him on the head. "You have to have sex before you can get an STI JJ."

"Aw, geez," JJ muttered. He stood and followed her from the den. "I'm not a virgin, you know."

"I'll put it in the newsletter," Sub-officer Dan Fleming said, overhearing the last bit as he crossed the bay to his locker, obviously waiting for his team to return with the combined pump and ladder engine.

"Sub, I... Aw, damn it, Campbell!"

Naomi laughed as she went into the kitchen. McClair was banging the cabinet doors open and shut without really bothering to search inside. She put one hand on his shoulder and said, "McClair. Sit. Take a deep breath. I'll cook you something. What're you in the mood for?"

"Beef stew?" Thomas said from the door, looking past her at Freddies tall figure. "What's with the banging around, fun sponge?" His office shared a wall with the kitchen, meaning McClair's tantrum may have interrupted his phone call.

"Sorry, boss. Bad bet."

Tomone winced and shook his head. He moved towards the other end of the table. "I told you not to go with your gut. What's your gut ever gotten you, other than an ulcer? Your lot are rebuilding, they lose games they should be winning" He patted McClair on the shoulder and took a seat.

Naomi went to the cupboard and searched for the cans of ready made beef stew. She had found a few cans and had just removed them when Jones walked in. Seeing the can in her hand, he snatched it away without saying anything. Naomi arched an eyebrow at him, "Whoa, Probie. Know your boundaries there."

"Sorry," he smiled. "But I..I thought I'd cook tonight. After all, it's my fault Freddie's trying to punch through the walls, right?"

"You're damn right," McClair said over his shoulder. He was still pouting, but seemed to have brightened a bit at the knowledge the probie would be cooking, the sparkle back in those kind brown eyes.

Naomi stepped back, eager to hand off the cooking duties, and took a seat next to the pouting driver, punching his shoulder affectionately. "Where'd the ladder get off to?"

Thomas waved dismissively at the doors. "Some late night demonstration at the town hall. They're having pyrotechnics, wanted some firefighters on hand just in case. If we get a call, the guys at Toxteth will back us up" He looked around and said, "Where's Holt?"

With Cook out of commission, a leading fire fighter, Robert Holt had been pulled in from another station; Naomi hadn't paid much attention to those details, she just wanted her mate back.

McClair answered, "He's upstairs pumping iron. Said he wanted to check out our set-up."

"Where's the can opener?" Jones interrupted.

"Butterfly opener in the drawer by the fridge," Thomas said, returning to the Holt topic. "Set-up? What, like becoming a firefighter is really just an excuse to bulk up while at work?"

"It is for me," McClair said. He rolled up the sleeve of his t-shirt and flexed his almost non-existent bicep, Naomi and Thomas laughing.

"Butterfly can opener?" Jones whined when he found the old-fashioned utensil "What is this, the Dark Ages?"

Freddie raised an eyebrow. "I have a penknife on my keychain you could use if you prefer."

Jones grumbled and turned the item over in his hands, trying to figure out how it worked.

Naomi slapped her thighs and stood. "Okay, since I was saved from cooking duties, you guys want something to drink? I can run across the street."

"Something orange-flavoured," Tomone said. "Don't care about brand, so long as it's full of sugar and orange."

McClair asked for 7-Up with Jones adding he'd have the same. As she passed the curly haired probationer, she saw him try and fail to hook the opener to the can. She took both can and tool from him, setting the can on the counter and effortlessly attached the opener to the side. With a few quick, strong twists, the top came loose. It was tilted up at a slight angle, allowing her to get her trimmed thumbnail under the edge and lift it up. She handed the can back to Jones and smirked, "Learn to use it. Your life in the kitchen will be so much easier Probie."

"All I'm saying is an electric can opener is, like, a tenner? Who needs this hassle?"

McClair shook his head laughing. "If you'd been born thirty years ago lad, wolves would have eaten your arse when you were a baby."

She left the squabbling boys behind and headed to her locker. Grabbing her wallet from her coat , she headed out. The Co-op store was literally straight across the street from the station. She trotted up the hill a little and looked both ways before she jogged across the street. She walked into the store, greeted the night clerk that she knew by name, and headed for the fridges at the back.

By the time she grabbed all the drinks, going back when she remembered Tomone had wanted something orange and not purple, two kids had entered. They were both carrying a skateboard under their arms and laughing about the wounds on the taller lad's knees. A girl trailed behind them, obviously bored out of her skull by what the boys were talking about. Naomi grabbed a Pepsi for herself and headed for the counter to pay.

"You a firefighter?"

She turned at the voice and saw the teen girl standing behind her, staring. The skater boys were at the fridges at the back, unaware their female hanger-on had detoured. Naomi was wearing her department t-shirt, so it wasn't a surprise she'd been spotted. "Yeah, I am" she nodded

"Cool," the girl said. "So they, like, let women actually hang off the truck and stuff?"

"Well, we stopped hanging off the truck a good while back," Naomi said. "The boys have started letting us sit up front with them now."

The girl nodded absently. "So, you like... sleep with all the guys?" she blushed, realising how that must have sounded to the tall blonde. "That's what I heard, I mean, that you guys all sleep together in the station."

"Well..." Naomi said smiling. "We do have separate sleeping arrangements."

"So there's no sex?"

"I can't speak for anyone else," Naomi had started grinning now. "But nah, nothing happens."

The girl made a half-hearted shrug and said, "That's cool, though. Being a firefighter."

"I think so. What's your name?"

"Michelle."

"Nice to meet you, Michelle."

From the crisp aisle, one of the boys finally realized his girlfriend had wandered. He joined in the conversation, nodding at Naomi. "So do you guys have, like, a dog?"

She turned and looked at him. He looked half-baked and was smiling like a moron. He repeated his question and Naomi said, "Yeah. We call him Cookie."

"Huh," the kid said, stuttering a laugh. "Cool. Cookie."

Naomi paid for her drinks and took her bag. "Nice meeting you, Michelle." The girl half-heartedly waved after her as the blonde headed back across the street, careful not to jostle the bag too much. Once, she'd gotten McClair's 7-Up shaken too much and it had sprayed all over everything when he opened it. The resulting spray war had become nearly legendary and, while fun, she didn't want a repeat of it. Or the cleaning up.

She carried the bag into the firehouse, the smells of stew rising from the kitchen area, making her mouth water as she sniffed the air in appreciation. She was halfway across the bay when she realized there was a woman's voice among all the chatter. She slowed her progress, confused, and craned her neck to see into the room around the door frame.

Sitting at the head of the table in the seat previously occupied by McClair, with her back to the door, was the unmistakable figure of Dr. Emily Fitch.

Naomi fought the sudden urge to run to her locker and change into something nicer.\


	4. Have one little hissy fit and suddenly you're on everyone's shit list

Naomi headed into the kitchen, ignoring the nerves that had just started jangling like a five-alarm bell. Tomone saw her coming and smirked. Emily paused and looked over her shoulder before her face broke out into a shy smile. "Naomi! They said you were out."

"Yeah," she said nervously as she put the carrier bag of drinks down on the table. She was avoiding the playful grins of her co-workers and trying to focus on forming coherent sentences. "Um... hi."

"Hi," Emily said.

JJ stepped between the two of them, breaking their awkward gaze. He fished through the bag and rummaged for the bottles inside. Pulling them free, he flashed a grin at Naomi and went back to the stove.

"Probably need some help with the spices, eh, probie?" McClair asked, getting out of his seat and standing at the stove with Jones. Both men stood with their backs to the room, neither of them even bothering to pretend they were working.

Thomas also stood, moving around the table. "You guys never use enough pepper for my liking... let me see if I can find some." He stood next to McClair and joined in the wall of silence.

Naomi shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other, very aware of the three men crowded behind her. From the lack of noise coming from their 'preparations,' she knew they were just trying to give the illusion of privacy. She cleared her throat and motioned at the apparatus bay with her head. "Wanna take a walk?"

"Sure," Emily said, shy smile still in place.

As she led the doctor out of the kitchen, she looked over her shoulder and said, "The Pepsi is mine. And save me some of the stew, would ya?"

"We'll have to open another can... at least," she heard Thomas grumbling.

"Probie'll have better luck cutting off one of his fingers," was Freddies reply as she walked away.

Naomi joined Emily in the bay, smiling apologetically like a teenager embarrassed by her family's appearance on the front porch before a date. "Sorry about that," she said, keeping her voice low. She put her hand on the small of Emily's back and guided her towards the open garage doors. She noticed Emily's body tensed at the touch and was about to pull her hand away when the other woman's body relaxed. They stepped out into the chilly air, the street light on the corner casting a light glow over the driveway.

"I pestered James until he told me which station you all worked out of, to track you down." Naomi grinned at the redhead as she mumbled how she'd been sitting in the station kitchen waiting for her.

Emily nodded at the empty section of the bay. "Was there a fire...?"

"Not yet," Naomi said. "The hydraulic ladder is just on hand at some demonstration down town." She cocked her head to the side.

"Oh, okay." She looked into the bay again and said, "So... y-you're not on the ladder?"

Naomi shook her head. "No, I'm with the engine."

Emily smiled, obviously embarrassed. "Okay... uh, I don't..."

Naomi grinned. "Not a lot of people understand the difference. The engine carries the water supply and a whole bevy of tools like smaller ladders, axes, the fans, stuff like that. The hydraulic ladder has, as you could guess, the ladder, or cherry picker. It's a big white ladder, you can't miss it. We do search-and-rescue inside the building and put the fires out... the ladder, all they do is go up, spraying water all over the area and everyone and grab all the glory looking dramatic. The TV always zooms in on them."

"Glory hogs," Emily said.

Naomi laughed. "Do you want a tour?"

"No, that's... I just came by to let you know that... um, you don't have to... meet me for drinks or anything if you don't want to."

Naomi felt her stomach drop. 'She changed her mind,' she thought. 'Decided she was just caught up in the moment, is rethinking it, no problem.' She managed to nod and said, "Well, I guess... we could call it off if you wanted to..."

"No!" Emily said, putting her hand on Naomi's arm. Naomi looked down and wondered if she'd just imagined there was a spark from their contact. "I-I didn't mean that. It was just... I ambushed you and I... was thinking that you really couldn't say no without embarrassing me. I just... wanted to say that I wouldn't... I mean, if you still want to go, I'd be thrilled..."

"I still want to go," Naomi said, interrupting her.

Emily looked as if a weight had been lifted from her. "Great. That's... thank you for not... laughing in my face. I'm not normally that full on"

Naomi smiled softly. "I'm really looking forward to it."

"So I'll... I'll see you then?"

"Count on it."

Emily shifted her feet and then looked back into the bay. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you back there..."

"Oh, please," Naomi laughed. "I apologize for anything these pigs said while I was gone."

"They're sweet. Especially Freddie."

Naomi fought the urge to laugh harder. "Yes, he... he...Freddie is darling."

"Okay, then... I should go. I'll see you tomorrow at noon."

"It's a date," Naomi said. She extended her hand as Emily moved in for a hug. They awkwardly shifted until they were shaking with one hand and embracing with the other. Emily grinned when they pulled back and Naomi said, "Okay... that wasn't weird at all."

Emily smiled nervously. "Sorry."

"It's okay. We'll figure it out."

She couldn't swear to it in the dim light, but she thought that Emily blushed. "Okay. Well..."

"Well. Have a nice night."

"You, too."

Naomi watched Emily walk back to her car, waving as the doctor drove past. Once the tail lights faded over the rise, she turned and walked back into the bay. She froze in the doorway of the kitchen.

Tomone, McClair and Jones had moved the table so they could all sit at the long end facing the door. Each of them had a bowl of stew in front of them, but none were eating; they were too busy smiling at her. McClair was the first to speak, holding his big hands out palm-up and batting his long eyelashes. "Well?" he said, affecting an effeminate tone. "Dish, girl!"

Naomi rolled her eyes and went to the pot. She found a bowl that wasn't too dirty and served herself. She paused at the table long enough to snag her Pepsi and shook her head. "You guys seriously need to get a life." Sticking her tongue out playfully she wandered off, food in hand.

They booed her playfully as she walked out of the kitchen with her food and drink. She stepped outside and took a seat in the lawn chair Tomone had been in earlier. She cracked her can open and set it on the ground next to her. From the kitchen, she could hear loud scratching noises as the guys moved the table back where it belonged. A few minutes later, Thomas came outside and leaned against the bay doors taking a long drink from his bottle

"Date?" he asked.

She thought for a moment and then nodded.

"She's cute Naomi."

Naomi smirked. "Yep."

"Want the guys to ease up on you?"

"'The guys?'" she asked. "So you were against moving the table?"

"Kicking and screaming," he said, but his smirk gave him away.

"It's all right, boss. I can take it," she assured him.

He nodded. "Enjoy your stew."

She raised her spoon and saluted him with it as he walked back into the building. She crossed her leg over her knee and watched the sparse traffic flow by the fire house Truth be told, she was a little touched by their playfulness. She had joined the academy with a class of four other women. The guys had been dismissive, harsh and misogynistic. It had been torture and it had only slightly lessened when she was assigned to the department.

Slowly but surely, she had gained their respect. And now, here she was... the night after fighting a fire, sitting outside of her fire house, a war wound on her arm and eating a hot bowl of stew. And she had a date tomorrow with a hot doctor.

Things were definitely on the up.

_**x-0-x** _

Her footsteps echoed through the abandoned corridors, reverberating off the bare walls. The offices had long been empty, all of the storage closets she had checked were crammed full of empty copier paper boxes, long-dead electronics and assorted junk and shit. She had shoved some more loose paper into the cracks, making sure the closets were as full as they could possibly be. Then she poured a small jar of petrol over the mess and closed the door. The fumes would build up in the cramped space and she'd get an even bigger bang for his buck.

She grinned demonically.

She carried seven more jars in her bag, protected from banging against each other by fluffy towels. The fumes were bad, but she'd gotten used to them a long time ago. Hardly even noticed them any more to be honest, but the headaches she got afterwards told her that her body still noticed. She tried to move fast, wearing a white rag around her nose and mouth, but the headaches still came, sometimes with the added bonus of blackouts. An unfortunate by-product of his mission, one that she felt he could easily deal with.

Opening the stairwell door, she walked to the edge of the landing and peered down. The stairs were illuminated by the moon, ghostly white against the darkness of the stairwell. It looked like they circled down into Hell. She poured another jam jar of petrol down the stairs, watching as the fluid seemed to jump from step to step, splashing out to either side as if thankful to be free of its glass prison.

She caught herself humming a song, something by Bruce Springsteen, and tried to remember the name of the tune. The title escaped her, as did the lyrics, she continued humming anyway. She was sure it was something about being on fire. Leaving the stairwell, she walked back the way she'd come. Petrol fumes assaulted her from all sides, from the bag at her side, from the closets she'd already rigged... It smelled like ambrosia to her, but she knew her body would rebel later. At the end of the hallway, she knelt and carefully spilled another pool just beneath the windowsill.

One floor down, two to go. She'd used three jars here, which left her only five for the other two floors. She'd have to scrimp on one of them... most likely the top floor. Unless... if the bottom and top floors were both inflamed, there was a chance the second floor would be engulfed with them. She regretted not thinking of that before she'd wasted three jars on the second floor, but no use crying over spilt petrol, she'd blame her partner for distracting her later.

She threw open the stairwell door and, ignoring the fumes, rushed up the stairs to the top floor to finish her job.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi lay down in the bottom bunk, still wearing her t-shirt but stripped to her shorts below the waist. Her bunking pants were pooled next to her bed, her boots standing up beneath them. Should the alarm go off, all she needed to do was swing her legs over the edge and step into them, yanking the pants up and hooking the braces on her shoulders. Easy as pie, took her about three seconds to do it. Practice making perfect and all that.

The lights were out, save for the main lights in the apparatus bay. The ladder had returned around ten and the guys who weren't sleeping around her were watching something in the den. Knowing that crew, it was probably a porno. She baulked at how stereotypical that sounded.

McClair was on the bed above hers, snoring loud enough to keep her awake and pondering kicking the struts holding his mattress up. She had one arm tucked behind her head, the other draped across her stomach. All she could think about was her date with Emily the next day. In - she checked her watch and did the maths - eleven hours, they would be sitting together and having coffee.

It had been ages since she had been on a date. Her shifts didn't exactly offer much of a social life outside of her work colleagues, but it didn't exactly help, either. Her last date had been with an armed response police officer named Laura. Fifteen minutes into the date, Laura had basically insulted every angle of fire fighting she could think of. Fire fighters were, in Laura's opinion, lazy and shiftless, being paid a king's ransom to sit around the fire house on their arses, watch TV, play pool and occasionally get a little soot on their faces. "My job," she'd said, eyes locked firmly down her nose, "a real job... people shoot at me."

Naomi's opinion was that people would shoot at Laura even if she was a dentist.

She rolled onto her side and saw Jones sprawled in the bunk opposite hers, hand covering his face. He'd yet to get used to sleeping in the same room as a bunch of other people, especially people as loud as McClair. She grinned. The Fredsters snores took some getting used to.

She closed her eyes, finally about to drift off, when the alarm began to sound.

Dan Fleming, who had the night watch, spoke over the intercom: "Ladder and Engine, respond to warehouse fire, 159 Great Homer Street, back of the library, Class-B fire." He repeated the message one more time and, by the time he finished, Naomi was following McClair across the apparatus bay, fully alert and fully clothed.

_**-0-x** _

Emily was curled in the corner of her couch, reading a few pages before slipping into bed for the night. She'd always been a night owl, something that had proved life-saving in her residency, and seldom climbed into bed before two. Tonight, however, she was having more than a little trouble concentrating.

She kept reading the same paragraph, trying to absorb the action on the page and finding herself unable to focus. Finally, she slipped the bookmark in and put the book on her lap. All she could think about was her upcoming date with Naomi. A fire fighter She grinned, leaning back and stretching, checking her watch as she reached for the remote. She was certain there was something on TV Land she could lose herself in for half an hour.

The TV came to life, filling the living room with pale blue light. She was about to turn across to one of the documentary channels when the scene on the channel caught her eye.

At first, she'd thought the local news was rerunning its earlier broadcast about the fire. Then, she spotted the little "LIVE!" banner in the bottom right corner, next to the address. Great Homer Street, which was in the warehouse district. In Anfield. Where Naomi was based.

"...continues to blaze out of control. Two fire fighting stations are on-hand trying to battle this inferno, but they seem to be making absolutely no headway against this thing." She watched in dull, uncomprehending horror as a large black man in full bunkers swept past the reporter on the ground. The reporter caught up with him. "Sir, excuse me... excuse me, Sir?"

The smooth, stressed, but-not-old face of Officer Thomas Tomone turned towards the camera, teeth bared, eyes flashing with anger. His short black hair was sticking up a little, obviously the result of removing the helmet he was carrying under his arm. Emily saw only the smiling man blowing on a spoonful of fresh beef stew, telling her that Naomi would 'be back in just a jiffy and to grab a seat.' He snapped something that the reporter's microphone didn't pick up and headed back towards the building. The reporter stammered something about how the officer was 'obviously very busy' and promised to 'get a statement later.'

'Right,' Emily thought.

The TV crew cut back to the studio, where a harried looking anchorman was shifting papers on his desk. He obviously wasn't used to being on the air this late and his discomfort was extremely evident. He looked up at the camera, probably making sure he was still on, and said, "If you're just joining us, we're continuing coverage of a fire that was first reported around 1:30 this morning. Since our crew has been on the ground, the fire team has managed to keep the fire from spreading to surrounding buildings..."

Emily was busy watching the picture-in-picture shot of the fire. If Tomone was on the ground, it stood to reason that Naomi was hard at work as well. The second fire in one shift... she honestly didn't know the odds, but it couldn't be all that common, could it? Certainly not another big warehouse fire. She was scanning the dark background - it was hard to tell one silhouette from another - and trying to read the reflective tape on the back of the fire fighters' jackets as they ran back and forth.

"We're getting word now," this from the local BBC reporter on the scene, "that a fire fighter may - I repeat, may be trapped inside the building. We don't have many details at the moment, but as soon as we can confirm anything..."

Emily refused to believe what she was hearing. Her mind taunted her, assuring her that it was definitely Naomi. Naomi had just come into her life only to be snatched away in a blaze of fire in the middle of the night. Isn't that always the way? Fate poked her in the side, laughing when she jumped. She stood up, halfway decided on changing into street clothes and heading to the hospital, knowing they'd be busy. She wanted to go, she wanted to stay and hear the rest of the news, she wanted to scream at the reporter to go away and let the fire fighters do their damn jobs.

She dropped back onto the couch and hugged her knees to her chest, staring at the television and hoping for good news.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi Campbell lay on her stomach, hand against the wall, the world in front of her a screaming swirl of yellows and blacks and grays. There was a bell ringing in her ear, the oxygen tank's five-minute warning siren mixed with the wail of a motionless PASS device somewhere in front of her. The fire was roaring on the ceiling above her; the screaming was coming from inside her own mask.

Fingers wrapped around the collar of her bunking coat and she felt herself lifted bodily off the floor. Someone was half-dragging, half-carrying her backwards the way she'd come in. Once they passed through the front door, the cold air hit her like a wave and her oxygen tank finally gave out as she collapsed in a heap on the dirt. The person who'd saved her picked her up again, letting her walk this time as he moved her towards the engine. "You all right?" he asked, helping her pull her mask off. "Where's your partner?"

She didn't recognize the man standing in front of her; he was from the city centre station and had responded to the same call. "He's in there," Naomi managed, coughing a bit as she watched the doorway dissolve into a wall of flame. "Oh, my God, he's still in there."

_**x-0-x** _

Emily had her eyes closed, fists pressed against her forehead when she heard it.

The reporter was giving another recap of the situation, turning to indicate the three-story high inferno behind him. He'd just paused to take a breath between sentences when there was an ear-piercing yell. A woman's scream.

Naomi?

Emily's heart jumped and she opened her eyes, frantically searching the background for signs of the woman she'd met that morning. Kneeling on the floor in front of the TV and touching the screen with her hand. Nothing. Damn it, nothing! She couldn't see anything in the dark, the smoke and with the idiot reporter standing in her way. She stood up and turned off the TV, the sudden darkness causing her a moment's blindness as she swept her hand across the coffee table for her car keys. She wasn't going to just sit around; she couldn't.

They'd appreciate the extra hands at work, anyway.

_**x-0-x** _

When she arrived, the emergency room was astoundingly serene. She headed for the elevators, looking around for signs she had missed the commotion, but everything seemed business as usual.

She rode the elevator to the third floor, where the real drama was happening. Cook was in a wheelchair, his bandaged head swivelling back and forth to look at whichever nurse happened to be nearby and speaking at the moment. "I do not care. I am going down to that building and..."

"You're staying right where you are, Mr. Cook," Emily snapped as she stormed onto the floor. Despite the panic that had propelled her the entire way to the hospital, she felt a kind of relief. Here, finally, was a problem she could deal with head-on, that she could control. Cook snapped his mouth shut, turning his wide eyes on her.

"D-Dr. Fitch," one of the night nurses said. Her brow creased in confusion, but she didn't dare question her presence. She had, after all, just cowed the most belligerent patient on the floor.

Emily stood in front of Cook's chair and glared down at him. "You will go right back to your room, get back in bed and you will calm yourself. Am I understood James?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said meekly.

Emily exhaled. "Good." She looked at one of the night nurses as said, "Rebecca. Please escort Mr. Cook back to his room. And make sure the restraints are nice and secure just in case we have to use them."

"I'll be good, I promise," Cook sighed, holding up his hands in surrender. "Geez, have one little hissy fit and suddenly you're on everyone's shit list"

"What are you doing here so late, Dr. Fitch?" the remaining nurse asked.

Emily held up her hand, watching until Cook was wheeled back into his room. She guided the nurse over to the desk, keeping her voice hushed. "Has he been watching much of the news?"

"Just the first little bit. He started his great escape right afterwards, so he didn't get a chance to see any developments. None of us did. Is it bad?"

"The fire is out of control from the looks of it... His watch may have lost someone."

"Oh, God!"

Emily shushed her and said, "I'm here just in case we get a sudden burst of admissions. Couldn't hurt to have an extra set of hands."

"Right, of course, Doctor. If it does get crazy, I'll get on my knees and worship your foresight."

"Well, that probably won't be necessary," Emily said. She tried to cover her fear with a smile as she took off her coat. "I do, however, accept cash gifts."

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi sat in the back of the ambulance for the second time in one day, watching as the other fire fighters doused the building. The fire was burning itself out; all they were doing for the moment was slowing its advance on the neighbouring buildings. She couldn't believe the similarities to the afternoon's fire. It was another warehouse, this one three floors high with offices on the upper two levels. She and her partner had gone in looking for squatters and had again found no one.

Instead, another door had opened on a fireball. It was still burned into Naomi's vision. That, and the image of a helmet engulfed in bright yellow flame.

The bumper of the truck sagged and she blinked herself back to the present, focusing on Tomone's haggard face. He sat across from her and put his hand on her shoulder. "What happened in there Nai?" he asked, his deep voice tired and soft.

"He's gone, sir," Naomi managed. "Right in front of me. He..." She bit her lip and shook her head. "He disappeared. No one could have survived it."

Thomas squeezed her shoulder just once and pulled his hand back. He turned to look out of the open doors at the smouldering building. "When the fire dies down, we're going in and we're going to pull him out. We will find him, Campbell. Got that?"

"Yes, boss."

"His PASS device..."

"Ringing loud and clear, sir," she said. She turned her head back to the building. The PASS device hooked on their jackets signalled when the wearer was immobile for a certain length of time, usually over five minutes. No one liked to admit that its primary job was to find corpses. Over the calls of other fire fighters, over the sirens that were still blaring and all the horrendous noise caused by the media circus, she swore she could still hear it ringing. A small, monotonous tone calling for them to come and find it. "Can you hear it, too?" she asked.

Tomone was quiet for a minute, cocking his head to one side, obviously trying to drown out the ambient noises. "Yeah," he finally said, nodding. "I can hear it."

He sat with her for a long time, watching out the back of the ambulance as their team and teams from other stations drowned the fire out. "Petrol," she muttered. "I smelled petrol in there. Really strongly."

"Yeah. This was set."

"Fuckers," she spat.

By the time the fire had been pretty much contained, the sun was starting to colour the sky at the edge of town. Tomone helped Naomi out of the truck and stood aside as she pulled her gear back on. The surface objective was to overhaul the building, clear out all the flammable materials and snuff out any remaining heat pockets that could rekindle the blaze. But the true objective was to find their missing fire fighter

Somewhere under all this shit, Jonah Jeremiah Jones was waiting to be found and despite being due off shift soon Blue Watch would not go home without him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to be honest here, when I started posting this I'd sorta blocked out what happened to JJ. My Watch lost a true friend and colleague in a huge fire 2 years ago (after I'd finished writing this tbh). So I started posting this, read this chapter and stopped again. However, Ste would always say 'life goes on' so in honour of him, I'll finish posting this.


	5. The Stoneham Siblings

"Excuse me," she asked, trying to get the attention of a reporter on the scene.

One of the talking heads, someone she vaguely recognized from Granada News but couldn't name, was wrapping a microphone cord around her hand. She looked up at the sound of her voice and said, "I'm sorry, miss, you can't be here."

The arsonist fought the urge to smirk, wondering how many times fire fighters had said the exact same thing to her. "I-I live around here," she said. "I saw the fire. I hope no one was hurt..."

The reporter sighed. "They're saying that maybe a fire fighter was trapped inside. That's all they're saying right now. Please, I'll have to ask you to step back."

She fought the urge to smile at this news, struggling mightily to keep her expression neutral. "Oh Jesus," she managed. "Oh, dear, that is horrible!"

She started to walk away, not getting too close to anyone lest they smell the petrol stink that clung to her like a second skin. She shoved her hands into her pockets, ducking her head and finally releasing the snicker and beaming grin that had been building up since the fire engines had first arrived. She'd done it. A fire fighter had gone down!

Looking over her shoulder, she saw the building was a maelstrom of flame; perhaps she'd gone overboard with this one. Between the first fires, which had been too weak, and this one, she needed to find a middle ground.

It would be fine, though... the next fire would be a masterpiece compared to these three. Snickering again, she turned and hurried away from the scene.

_**x-0-x** _

They pulled JJ from the rubble at half past six in the morning. His oxygen mask had melted into his skin and his uniform turned a deep charcoal colour. The paramedics loaded him onto a trolley and covered him with a body bag before they removed him from the remains of the building. Tomone passed Freddie and Naomi, handing each of them a corner of a blanket he'd grabbed from the ambulance. They nodded their understanding and moved a few feet apart.

When the medics carried the stretcher from the building, McClair climbed onto the bumper of the engine and lifted his portion of the blanket over his head. Naomi did the same on the bumper of the ladder. The reporters who had by now shown up in full force, were stuck scrambling back and forth in an attempt to get a halfway decent shot around the sudden barricade. Once Jones had been loaded into the ambulance, they dropped the blanket and went back to their duty. The building still wasn't safe.

Naomi watched the ambulance bounce as it rolled over the TV camera cords and other various pieces of equipment the reporters had left lying around, probably trashing them. Several of the talking heads tried to get their stuff out of the way, but the ambo driver wasn't giving them time to clear out. Naomi managed a weak, grim smile and picked up her axe, following Freddie back into the smoky husk.

_**x-0-x** _

Emily did whatever was needed, since she was there, but she spent most of her time leaning against the doorway of the waiting room and watching the fire coverage on the news. One of the reporters announced that they were bringing the body out, at which point the camera spun back towards the building.

"Oh, what the hell are they thinking?" Emily muttered. She hated the fact that she was glued to the screen. The reporters were just getting in the way and why? So people like her could sit at home and gawk. She twisted her lips and rubbed the back of her neck, angry at herself.

At that moment, two fire fighters stood on the bumpers of the engines nearest to them. From Naomi's lesson earlier, Emily saw that one of the big machines was the engine and the other with the big white 'cherry picker' was the ladder. The fire fighters held up a smoke-damaged blanket. She smiled, fighting the urge to applaud. When the blanket was dropped again, the fire fighter that had stepped onto the ladder turned and slipped around the edge of the truck.

Emily felt her breath catch when she spotted CAMP written in reflective tape over the tail of the jacket before the fire fighter disappeared with the rest of the name before she could read it. She whispered, "Naomi," as she clutched her lucky pendant hanging from her necklace. "Thank God, Naomi."

A few minutes later, the reporter back in the studio - the replacement of the one who had been in on the earlier shift - broke in. "We have a little more information to offer you at this time. Apparently, the casualty was a probationary fire fighter, which means he had only recently graduated from the Merseyside Fire and Rescue Academy. The service has revealed no further information."

Emily had a flash of the curly haired man standing at the stove earlier in the evening, ladling stew into a bowl. He had offered her some; she could practically still hear him say, "You're sure? There's plenty to go around." She could see his short curly hair, his blue eyes blinking and that nervous mile that she was sure had melted a few hearts all around town. He had been so young looking. She'd seen young people die; it was a fact of life in the hospital and she certainly wasn't that old herself. But he had been so... alive earlier, so vital. Just making stew and joking with the guys. The worst part was she couldn't even remember his name.

"Miss?"

She looked into the dark waiting room, straightening slightly. The speaker had been a young man, probably the same age as the fire fighter, sitting on the couch. He looked concerned. She cleared her throat and said, "Um, yes, sorry, yes?"

"Are you all right? Would... you like me to get a nurse?"

She realized that she was crying, realizing a moment later that she was still wearing her street clothes. "No, that's all right," she said, forcing a smile. "Thank you."

She turned and went back to the nurses' station, resting her hands on the edge of the counter until one of the women there noticed her. "I'm going to go home," she said softly.

"All right, Dr. Fitch. Do you want us to give you a call if someone from the fire is sent in?"

"No," she said. "I don't think I'd be the best thing for them right now." She smiled and thanked the nurse before she headed to the elevator.

The corridor branched off right before the elevators, stretching out to either side in short halls. It was a benefit for the more mobile patients, so they could look out the windows. Convalescing patients were walked from their rooms to the windows during their exercises. Even though the view was mostly of a car park and shopping centre across the street, everyone still seemed fond of coming down and looking at the trees. It was also used by nurses who wanted to have their smoke breaks without going all the way to the ground floor.

As she passed, she spotted Cook sitting in his wheelchair and staring blankly through the glass. Following his gaze, she saw the weakly rolling black cloud at the other edge of town. She started over, thought better of it and stayed where she was. She wondered if he knew; if he had heard the news. He most likely had; hard to believe he hadn't seen the news broadcast of his friends doing their jobs. She swiftly walked up behind the wounded man, placing a hand on his shoulder in comfort before leaving again.

She pressed the down button on the lift and left the recovering fire fighter to his thoughts.

_**x-0-x** _

At the fire house, Naomi headed to the edge of the apparatus bay and turned on the tap. Polly the truck needed to be hosed down and there was no reason why she shouldn't get it done with as soon as possible. Tomone and Fleming were heading for the bosses office where the unfortunate task of calling Joneses family would be done. She pulled a couple of sponges from the cabinet and went to find the hose. They still had a little time left on shift, and work to be done before they were relieved.

McClair walked over and she automatically handed him a sponge. He took it without comment and turned to look over at the Chief's office.

When she picked up the bucket and carried it over to the truck, McClair spoke. "Too young, man. Shit."

She knew he was talking about Jones's age. They'd managed to salvage his helmet, the singe-marks contained to the front. She noticed the cross he'd drawn with a marker hadn't been touched and she wanted to take an axe to it. He'd prayed on the way to this fire, the way he did on every call. Fat lot of good it had done. She motioned at the engine. "C'mon. Let's get this done. You want to hang the hose to dry?"

"Sure," he said. He pulled some of the equipment from the truck, setting it aside to be washed. He looked over his shoulder at the office and asked, "Who do y'think they'll put with us?"

She shrugged. "One of the Stonem's, probably."

"You'd like the sister, huh, Campbell?"

She could tell by the tone of his voice he was kidding, probably expecting a crack back about him preferring to get the Stonem brother, but she shot him a look instead."Not today, Freds."

He nodded in understanding and sprayed the hose at the side of the truck. A wave of soot and dirt immediately began to cascade down the red flank. Naomi watched the stream for a moment before she shook her head and blinked herself back to reality; dunking her sponge into the bucket and getting to work.

_**x-0-x** _

Jones's temporary replacement arrived before the shift ended.

Naomi and Freddie had finished washing the truck and had replaced all of the now-gleaming equipment. The hose was hung up to dry in the hose bed and they were finally taking a few minutes to decompress in the den before signing out. Naomi was seated so that she could see the front of the bay and kicked McClair's shin when the other woman arrived. "Look who's here."

"Figured she wouldn't come 'til next shift," McClair said.

"Probably just wants to touch base, get her stuff in a locker... save her time getting acclimated."

McClair nodded, watching as she walked into the bosses office. Her long brown hair was in a ponytail that reached only mid-shoulder. She had a set of bunkers over one arm, her helmet tucked under the other. McClair raised an eyebrow and said, "Damn. I heard they were the best looking siblings in the service."

"Down, boy," Naomi smiled.

"Hey, you got the doctor yesterday, and Cookie got that paramedic. Can't I call dibs on this one?"

"She's not a turkey drumstick at Christmas dinner, Freddie."

He scoffed and shrugged. "All right, all right." The brunette had left the office and was carrying her stuff across the bay to the lockers.

The woman spotted them after stowing her gear and headed over, extending her hand with a smile as they left the den ready to leave. "Hi. Elizabeth Stonem. You can call me Effy."

"Effy" Naomi said, taking the other woman's hand. "Pleasure to meet you under the circumstances".

Naomi winked at McClair, who had managed to control his drooling. "It's nice to meet you," he said shaking her hand.

"Two women in the same station," Effy smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Whatever will the old boys club think?"

"No worries," Naomi said. "We hardly even think of McClair as a woman any more."

From his casually slumped position leaning against the wall, McClair brought his foot up and kicked the blonde in her rear.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi tossed her rucksack onto the couch and shrugged out of her fleece. She draped it over the back of her comfy chair as she passed and ran her fingers through her still-wet hair. She'd ended up showering at the station after showing Effy around, getting all the soot and grime out of her hair, but she had still smelled of smoke when she climbed into her old Nissan at the end of the shift. Stifling a yawn, she stripped down to her underwear, not bothering with pyjamas before collapsing on top of her quilt.

Her next shift was in 48 hours and she planned to spend at least half of that unconscious. Her eyes closed as soon as she hit the pillow, her bed seeming to catch her as she fell into it. Just before sleep claimed her, she thought of how lucky she was to not have anything to do for two whole days.

And that's when it hit her.

She rolled onto her back and muttered a curse as she ran back into the living room. She grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair and turned the pockets inside out. No phone. Her backpack had fallen over and spilled across the couch cushions, saving her the trouble of doing it herself. She finally found her mobile phone at the bottom of the pile. She turned it on and fumbled with her keys until she found her voice mail in box.

No new messages.

She frowned and checked her watch. She and Emily had made plans to meet at noon. She was thirty minutes late, so why no call? She knew the irony of her being offended, but still couldn't bring herself to ignore it. She kicked herself for not getting Emily's phone number and went back into the bedroom. As she pulled on a hoodie and found a pair of jeans in her wardrobe. As she buttoned the jeans, she tried to think of the best place to intercept the doctor. Not the hospital; she wouldn't have scheduled a date if she had been on duty.

Unfortunately, that was the only place in Emily Fitch's life that she knew about.

She sat on the edge of the bed, distraught, feeling like she'd missed the opportunity of a lifetime. It was silly... some woman she'd spent a grand total of fifteen minutes with over the course of a single day... who cared? There were other women. Theoretically, anyway, there were other women. She groaned and ran a hand through her hair. The one woman in years who had actually made her feel something, the one woman who had made her excited about the prospect of eating a meal across from someone... and she'd missed it.

She stared at the phone and tapped her thumb against the display screen and was shocked into yelping when it began to vibrate in her hand. She kicked herself for being so jumpy and answered it when McClair's mobile phone number appeared on the display. "Freddie?" she said. "Why... what's up?"

"Hey, Naomi, got a minute?"

"Yeah, course. Where are you?"

"Still at the station. Thomas, he... he wanted me to kind of go through Jones's things and... you know..." He trailed off, leaving the unpleasant details to Naomi's imagination. It was a fact of life; Jones had died and his full time replacement would likely need the locker space. Didn't make the process of cleaning it out any more enjoyable. He cleared his throat and moved on. "Anyway, that nice doctor from last night?" Naomi's heart kicked up a notch. "She stopped by, wanted to know if we could give her your phone number. I wasn't sure and..."

"Yes! She... it's all right, Fred's. Is she there now?"

"Yeah, want me to put her on?"

"Yes!"

After a pause, Emily's voice came over the line. "Naomi?"

"I was just trying to figure out how to get a hold of you!" She paused. She was out of breath, smiling like an idiot, and in danger of making a very big fool out of herself. She cleared her throat and said, "I, uh... thought you were going to call."

"Well, I somehow washed your number in my pocket and after last night, I..." There was a long pause and Naomi thought they'd been disconnected. After a moment, Emily quietly said, "The man whose phone I'm borrowing is standing right here smiling REALLY weirdly at me... Um, i-is there some place we can meet?"

Naomi gave her the address of Peter's café and gave her directions. When McClair got the phone back he said, "Hey, Naom's. Need a chaperone?"

"Good-bye, McClair."

"Make sure she doesn't get too handsy?"

"Good-bye, McClair."

"Will you take some pictures for me if she does get too handsy?"

She snapped the phone shut without bothering to say good-bye again, but she smiled at Freddie's sense of humor. One five-minute phone call and here she was, revitalized and almost cheerful. She gathered her backpack and headed out the door, hoping to get to the café before Emily did.

_**x-0-x** _

Peter had inherited the café when his father retired, a kindly old man who had lovingly referred to Michael as Peter's "spouse." He seemed to accept them as a couple, but Peter had hinted a few times that it had been a long, tough road. When Peter's father recently decided to pack up and move to Southport, he had been torn between selling the business and keeping it in the family. He'd only handed over the reins after he'd tasted Peter's cappuccinos and personally tested half of Michael's menu.

Naomi sat nervously at the table next to the front door, fiddling with her coffee cup as she watched the pavement. 'How long does it take to get here from the fire house?' she wondered. 'Why would Emily seek me out just to blow me off?' A few customers passed the threshold of the café, but not so many that Peter couldn't come around the counter and stopped next to her table. "Waiting for someone?"

She smiled nervously.

He gasped and slid into the seat across from her. "Naomi has a girlfriend!" he grinned. "Who is she? How long as this been going on?"

"I met her yesterday."

"Ooh, she moves fast!"

Naomi shrugged and said, "Well, she was the doctor I saw after the first fire..."

He shushed her and moved forward, touching her unburned arm. "Honey, that reminds me... no talk of the fire around Michael. The sirens woke him up last night and we watched the whole horrid thing on the news. He was terrified. Just... so you know. He's fragile right now."

"I didn't know," Naomi said. She glanced towards the kitchen door. "Is he all right?"

"He really likes you. Your job scares him a lot. Me too, for that matter."

"Why don't you guys come over some night for dinner? My treat. I'll soothe his nerves."

"He'd really appreciate that. I would, too." He looked over her shoulder and said, "We'll set it up later, all right?"

"Sure," Naomi said and turned to follow his gaze. Emily was standing behind her, looking flushed and smiling brightly. She was looking nervously between Naomi and Peter, as if trying to figure out whether to stay or make tracks. "Emily! Hi! This is..."

Peter shushed her and stood with his arms held out. "This is a man who is just vacating your seat. I'll leave you two ladies alone... unless you'd like something to drink?"

Emily slid into the seat he'd just vacated and said, "Yes, um... could I have a latte?"

"Normal or decaf sweetie?" He cooed over the petite red head, much to both women's amusement.

"Decaf would be fantastic, thank you."

He went off behind the counter returning a few minutes later with a streaming cup of coffee in a cup, placing it in front of her. He smiled at Naomi and said, "If you ladies need anything else, let me know." He went around the counter, as far from their booth as he could get. Naomi knew he would do his best not to eavesdrop, but she still dropped her voice a notch.

"I was so relieved when you called."

"I wasn't going to," Emily said. "I saw everything on the news and I knew you were having..." She swallowed and said, "I just thought that coffee would probably be the furthest thing from your mind today."

Naomi shrugged. "It sort of was. I have to confess, I had forgotten all about it until just before you called. But I'm glad to have the excuse to ignore everything that happened this morning, even for a little while."

Emily took the hint and nodded her understanding. After a beat, she said, "You look exhausted... are you sure you don't want to reschedule this?"

"You know, it's silly, but... I'm afraid if we call off our first date, it'll curse us."

"First date," Emily repeated cocking her head with a smile. "Us?"

Naomi looked out the window and smiled nervously. "I really suck at relationship stuff."

"Eh, you get at least a passing grade."

Naomi looked at Emily's cup and said, "Tell you what... take a drink of your latte." As Emily picked up her drink and took a long sip, Naomi drank what was left of her cappuccino. "Okay, there. Our date is over. Would you like to walk me home?"

"Are your dates always this short?"

"Only when I'm saving the best for later."

They slid out of the booth after Emily took another long sip of latte, managing not to burn herself and Naomi reached for her wallet. Peter gave away his eavesdropping and rushed over, waving her off as he transferred the remains of her drink into a takeout cup before handing it back to the redhead. "No, honey. First dates are always free in Peter's Café"

"Thanks, Pete," Naomi said. As Emily stood, carrying her cardboard cup, Naomi put her hand in the small of the other woman's back, a gesture she'd done once before and was already finding more and more natural. And apparently, she wasn't alone; this time, Emily didn't tense at all. She guided Emily out of the café and pointed down the street. "It's just down this way."

"Oh...? My car is right here," Emily said, indicating a little Fiesta parked at the curb.

"Oh," Naomi said. Her face fell as she saw her romantic idea collapsing around her. "I didn't think about your car."

"It's the thought that counts, I think is the saying," Emily said. "Look, you just got off shift late; you've got a right to be exhausted. On top of that, it was a hellish shift. We should just try it again later."

"Okay. It's a deal... can I have your mobile number?"

"Oh, right," Emily said. She pulled her bag around and rummaged around inside. She withdrew a pen and pad and wrote her number down. "This is my mobile and my home number... I don't want another treasure hunt like today."

Naomi nodded. "Yes... and the less exposure you have to Freddie, the better."

Emily laughed and said, "Okay. And I washed yours, so..."

Naomi scribbled her home and mobile numbers down as well. As she capped the pen, she looked down at her hands and said, "I'm really glad you went to the trouble to find me today. It's been... a really bad day and..."

"It was entirely a selfish move, trust me," Emily said softly. She slid her hand across Naomi's shoulder and moved in. She pecked Naomi's cheek and hesitated, obviously debating whether or not to move to the lips. Before she decided, too much time had passed for it to be spontaneous, so she hugged her and stepped back. "Want a ride home?"

"I think I'd better walk off that kiss first," Naomi said, avoiding Emily's eyes.

Emily laughed and said, "Okay. When is your next day off?"

"Tomorrow, actually," Naomi said. "Twenty-four on, forty-eight off..."

"Oh, right, right. Well, do you want to..."

"Dinner. Tomorrow."

Emily laughed. "Well, then! We'll work out the kinks tomorrow then?"

Naomi nodded. "I'll call you."

"You'd better," Emily said playfully reaching out and briefly running her hand down Naomi's arm.

Naomi watched Emily climb into her little car, waving at her through the wind shield as she started it. When she'd pulled away from the curb, Naomi turned and caught movement inside Peter's Café out of the corner of her eye. She turned and saw Peter and Michael both in a window booth, smiling at her through the glass. Peter made a heart shape with his fingers and Michael mimicked a heart pounding against his chest.

Naomi gave them another hand gesture, but she only needed to use one finger.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi stretched out on her bed again, this time in a pair of pyjama bottoms and a tank top. She threw an arm over her face to block the early afternoon sun, settled in, and hoped for a good, peaceful sleep. At least for a couple of hours... She had Emily's phone number safely transferred to the pad by her house phone, so she wouldn't accidentally throw it out or lose it when she dug around in her bag.

The only problem was that every time she closed her eyes, she saw Jones opening that door, saw the flames engulfing him, heard the screams.

He should have been behind her. She should've been the one to open that door. Letting him lead the way had been a show of faith, a reward for his excellent progress. Instead... instead, she had signed his death certificate. It was just like Cook's accident, only...

She opened her eyes, moving her arm and staring up at the ceiling.

It was exactly like Cook's accident, except the flames were bigger. She sat up and got out of bed, going into the kitchen, searching until she found one of the street maps she'd stocked up on while studying to be a driver with the service. Unfolding it onto the dining room table, she found the sites of the three fires and covered the distances with her finger and thumb. They were just a few hundred meters from each other.

She sat down, thinking back to Cook's accident. He had opened the door and the back draft had knocked him down and burnt him badly. The second fire, less than twelve hours later, had been only a few blocks away... it had been bigger, it had been badder and it had actually killed the fire fighter that was caught in it.

Someone was torching these buildings. Worse, they seemed to be traps set to catch reporting fire fighters off-guard. She stood up so fast she nearly toppled her chair; she had to call Tomone and tell him what she'd learned


	6. Peaches and Cream Baby

Station Officer Chamberlain of Green Watch had informed her that Thomas had already gone home, leaving the house in his very capable hands. Naomi had hesitated, not sure whether or not to tell him what she'd learned. If it was true, then they needed to have all the information as soon as possible. But if she was just being paranoid... if it turned out that she was just seeing conspiracies around every corner, she'd prefer if it stayed between her and her boss After all, Tomone had been at both of the fires. Martin had never even met JJ, as far as she knew...

She told Chamberlain that she would call back later and to let Tomone know she needed to talk to him if he called in at all.

After hanging up, she went to bed and stretched out on top of the covers. She stared at the ceiling, half hoping for sleep and half dreading the nightmares that she knew were sure to come.

_**x-0-x** _

She and Jones were crawling down the corridor, a hose line dragging the ground between them. They reached a bank of doors and Naomi slid the back of her hand up the wall. She could feel the heat even through her glove and slapped the back of Jones's leg. "Keep moving!"

He gave her the okay sign over his shoulder, half-lost in the cloud of smoke. He continued crawling and she took up the slack of the hose.

It was a fully involved fire, which meant others outside were already applying streams to the open windows. Naomi looked up at the ceiling as they rounded a corner, watching the smoke. It had seemed wrong the first time, now it was even worse. It was like a giant, flashing sign that said "Turn Back Now." She ignored it now as she had the first time and followed Jones deeper into the building.

She had seen what he was doing wrong the first time and had shouted at him. But even in her dream, it was still too late. She still saw sheets of smoke flowing into the cracks around the door as if the room was alive and taking a deep breath. And the exhale would be the envy of every fire-breathing dragon since King Arthur's day.

Jones knelt in front of the door, either not hearing her or just ignoring her and reached up. She remembered cursing and grabbing the leg of his bunkers, trying to pull him back just as he twisted the door knob in his hand.

She pulled her hand back at the last moment, right before the door opened and Jones was engulfed. The wave of flame looked so wrong, so unreal... Instead of exhaling, as she had the first time, she inhaled to scream. (Where the hell was her mask?) The flames followed the oxygen and by the time she realized what she'd done, it was too late. Her lungs had become superheated, fried and useless as she gasped uselessly for air. Her throat now burnt, her lungs twin lumps of charcoal, her entire insides feeling like she had swallowed a match.

And just before she burst into flames, she jerked awake in bed, breathing deep and hard with her healthy lungs. She had screamed instead of breathed. She had survived, Jones was dead. Her face and pillow were wet. She brushed off her cheeks and slipped out of bed on shaky legs like a new born pony. She stood for a moment, making sure her knees would support her, and went to the shower.

She turned the cool water as high as it would go, stripped out of her underwear and unwound the dressing on her arm. She got into the shower and stood motionless under the spray. Goosebumps rose on her flesh, her hair slicked back against her skull as she simply stood there and willed herself to become a block of ice. After a few moments, when her hands and knees were shaking with the freezing temperature, she finally turned on the hot water and soaped up.

She couldn't smell the smoke anymore, but that didn't mean the odour was gone. One of her ex-girlfriends had broken up with her because she "couldn't be with someone who smoked, so how could she sleep next to someone who reeked of the stuff?"

When she finally felt clean, she shut off the shower and towelled off, redressing her burn and putting on a pair of fire service sweats. The flat still felt a little too warm after her freezing cold shower. She padded barefoot to the window and pushed it open to let in some fresh air. Her flat was a basic one-bedroom over a corner shop. She had a few neighbours, but they were private and never lasted very long. It was nothing to do with her and everything to do with the kids who were at that moment closing a deal down on the corner. Her longest-lasting neighbour was a sweet old man who claimed his name was Mr Round and that his rotund waist was just a coincidence.

Down in the street, someone was screaming for someone else named Michelle to unlock the car door. The screech of tires immediately thereafter hinted that maybe Michelle had decided to leave the door locked. She watched as a pair of teenaged kids on the corner exchanged a very complicated hand gesture and then went their separate ways. A limping dog exited the alleyway across the street, pausing to push his muzzle around an overflowing rubbish bin before lopping down the street and disappearing into the darkness.

She loved the neighbourhood. She hated what was happening to it - the car theft, the broken windows and the graffiti on every surface - but what could she do? Call the police and give them another paper to shuffle at the end of the day? She sighed and moved away from the window. She had enough worries; she could put the world directly outside her window out of her mind for the day.

Maybe she'd move.

It was almost seven, the sun already set and her flat was filled with shadows. She padded over her rucksack and kicked it out of her way as she wandered towards the kitchen. She turned on the kitchen area lights, intent on making a cup of coffee when she caught a glimpse of the map still unfolded on the dining room table. She prayed she was wrong; someone setting fires to kill firefighters... it made her nauseated just thinking about someone sick enough to do it.

She carried her water into the living room, switching the TV on as she waked past and sat on the couch in the dark. She put her feet up and closed her eyes. She hated waking up so late; it threw off her internal clock. In a few hours, it would be bedtime. She could already see herself, up at two in the morning, watching some utter shite on the late night TV. Thank Christ she still had plenty of Poirot DVD's to watch to help her insomnia. Glancing at the TV she noticed a Poirot special was already on.

She loved watching those shows. They reminded her of curling up with her mum on the sofa on a rainy Sunday afternoon, just the two of them. She wanted someone to curl up next to her during the trips down memory lane, but so far no one she'd gone out with could get past the fact that she ran into burning buildings for a living.

The phone rang and she grumbled, picking up a cushion off the couch and covering her face with it. "Shut up and leave me alone," she groaned. After a moment, the fifth ring was silenced and her voice issued from the machine's speaker. "This is Naomi... Go for it."

There was a beep and then, "Naomi! Naomi! Naomi! Naomi! Naomi!"

She tossed the pillow away and grabbed the phone on the ninth "Naomi!" and shut off the machine. "Cookie!"

"Naomi!"

She grinned. "How are you doing?"

"I'm in a hospital bed with a catheter in a very uncomfortable position. The nurse that I spent half the shift working on just went off-duty so I have to start all over with the new one and the food here sucks."

She sat back and said, "Yeah, but other than that?"

"Peaches and cream, baby. The docs want to keep me another day... claim that I have some kind of infection. They just want to keep the Cookie Monster around a little longer. This place is Dullsville, so I really don't blame them for lying to keep me here."

"How dare they?" Naomi said, feigning indignation. "You're our entertainment!"

He laughed, "How about you, girl? Your wrist all right?"

She looked at the wrist she'd burned the day before and worked it back and forth, watching the bandage wrinkle and twist but feeling nothing too bad below. "It's healing nicely, I think. No loss of movement."

"Good," he said. "Hate to think you were permanently injured trying to save my sorry ass."

Jones's face flashed in front of her, along with the memory of being lifted bodily from the corridor and carried out. She didn't even know who it was, who had saved her life. She knew that he was a city centre firefighter, but she hadn't bothered to learn his name. "I would've stayed," she said softly, rubbing her hand over her face, willing the tears to just fuck off again. "To save Jones. Someone picked me up, carried me out of there..."

"From what I've heard, it was a flashover. That city guy shouldn't even have been in there, but if he hadn't... you know as well as I do that if you had stayed another ten... hell, if you'd stayed another two seconds you would've roasted alongside Jones. You found his body, Naom's. Wasn't nothing anyone could've done differently. You think Jones would've wanted someone to die alongside him?"

"We were partners. He was a probie. If anyone was supposed to die..."

"No one is supposed to die you dickhead. Haven't we taught you anything?" Naomi heard him sigh and swallow for a minute before he continued, "We have a dumbass job where we run into a fire and put it out. Up until, what, fifteen or twenty years ago firemen didn't even wear masks into fires. Some people think firefighters have a death wish and a lot of times, I can't find a way to disagree with 'em. Naomi..."

"Jones shouldn't have been in front of me. I should've been leading the way and..."

"And nothing. You could've gone in first. You could've strapped his bunkers on for him, too. Helped him aim when he went to the toilet, wiped his snotty nose for him. JJ was a grown up man. He was a little green, sure. But he was a damned good firefighter. You should feel proud that you gave him a chance to lead the hose."

"He fucking died Cook" Naomi repeated. "It was his first time leading and-"

"He lost the lotto, blondie. Could've just as easily been me, you or the Fredster. He might've died on his second entry or his fifth or his ten-thousandth. No use second-guessing, no point in playing what-might-have-been. What happened is what happened and we've got to deal with that. That's our penance."

Naomi took a deep breath, looking out her window. She could see the top of next door's pawn brokers store glowing brightly, flashing in random intervals. After a moment, she said, "Thanks James."

"No problem, Naoms. I spent about six hours this morning staring out the window coming to the same conclusion. Thought I'd... I don't know, share my Yoda-like wisdom."

"It's appreciated."

"Well, bits of wisdom are so rare for me that I had to tell somebody. And no one else at the firehouse takes my calls anymore."

She smiled again, glancing towards the TV. Hercule Poirot was berating Hastings for being stupid again "Thanks, Cookie. It's appreciated. Have there been any more fires today?"

"None I've heard of. Heard sirens earlier, probably just a pranky or assistance call cause I didn't see any smoke."

She nodded, then realise he couldn't see her. "Here's hoping."

After a brief moment, he said, "Naomi, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"You don't even feel a little guilty for when I got burnt?"

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "No, I don't feel any guilt whatsoever for that."

He sighed wearily into the phone and said, "Oh! Oh, nurse, hurry! My poor little heart is breaking! Oh, no, nurse!"

Naomi laughed and touched her face, surprised to find it dry. "James... I'm glad you're... I'm glad you made it."

"And I'm glad you weren't hurt worse than you were. All us guys, we... you're our sister, brother, whatever, you know?"

She found herself insanely touched by that sentiment; when she'd first signed on, she had gotten the cold shoulder from everyone. She had her own bathroom and some other women in a neighbouring fire station had started a petition to get separate lockers, too. Naomi had passed on signing, instead stringing up a sheet to block her corner locker from the rest of the room. After that, the guys started to realize she didn't expect or want special treatment just because of her gender. When Freddie had instigated a water war with her, she knew they were coming around. But this... "Sister." She smiled at the phone and said, "Thanks, James."

"Okay, I gotta go... the redhead is coming back and I want her to think I'm at death's door. They tend to play fast and loose with the sponge baths when they think you're gonna die."

"Just make sure they don't shave anything."

He was quiet for a moment and then sheepishly asked, "W-what would they... they shave?"

She laughed, said good-bye, hanging up on him and stretching out on the couch again. A five-minute phone call from Cook and, all of a sudden, she didn't feel half as bad about everything. She was alive, barely injured, she had a date with a beautiful woman in twenty-four hours and Hercule Poirot was on the TV. In the grand scheme of things, she had it good.

_**x-0-x** _

She had the plans laid out in front of her, the perfect spots for her presentation marked. The fire would look small, easy to extinguish... but the hot spots. They would prove most deadly if the firefighters weren't extremely careful. And they had no reason to be cautious, they would be arrogant in their invincibility as always. She guesstimated where the fire engine would park, figuring what the collapse zone would be. What was it, one-and-a-half times the height of the building? She wasn't sure... she figured two times, just to be on the safe side.

The news was replaying their late-night footage of the fire and she paused, riveted by the coverage of her handiwork. She drummed her fingertips on the edge of the table as they pulled the body out, cursing those damn firemen who'd held a sheet up to block the shot. Way to ruin the moment you bastards. She sighed and moved closer to the TV, getting a closer look at them. The tall one's jacket said McClair. The other one...

CAM... Cam-what? Camptown?

No, Campbell. Naomi Campbell of course. They had talked about her earlier in the day, saying that she'd been 'inches away from death herself.' Apparently, she had been on her hands and knees behind the male firefighter, escaping death only because of the order in which they'd gone into the building. Irony. She was a huge fan of it. She grinned, drawing her finger down the TV screen. "Naomi Campbell," she said quietly. "I promise to aim for you next time."

When the news moved on to other local news, she returned to his table and sat down, arranging her toys. He put a toy fire engine on the plans, wondering how tall the ladder really was. It would have to reach the roof, of course, so they could ventilate.

The roof... She checked the information on the building and smiled. The rafters. The firefighters would be very careful when cutting ventilation. They would be certain not to cut any rafters. But if the rafters were already severed... well, then, that would make for a very interesting chain reaction, wouldn't it?

She fought the urge to laugh and began to outline her new plan.

_**x-0-x** _

"Harrison Hair Studio," the high-pitched, female voice crackled. "How can I help you?"

"Hey, Lyndsey, it's Naomi, Naomi Campbell."

"Naomi! Why, how nice of you to remember me."

Naomi smiled at how much her hairdressers voice went from polite to a full-on sarcastic Scouse tone within a second once she'd realised who the caller was "I... may possibly need your services."

Lyndsey half-gasped, half-groaned into the phone. "That mop you call hair? Shave it all off, say you're a boy until it starts to grow out some. We'll start from scratch."

"Hey, come on," Naomi said, bending down and looking at her reflection in the microwave door. "It's not that bad." And it was much better than tying her hair into pigtails on the way to a fire. It was easier to just cut it short and ignore it. "I... h-have a date tomorrow."

Another sound from Lyndsey, this time half-laughter and half-shriek. "Ooh, Naomi finally found someone who meets all the requirements? Wonders never cease! And if your hair is 'not that bad,' why're you calling me before a big date to make you look good?"

"Good?" Naomi countered, surprised.

"Marvellous, dear, I meant to say marvellous and wondrous. Sorry, I forgot who I was for a minute. Won't happen again. Now, you're off all day tomorrow, so all day is the window, yes?"

"Any time tomorrow, yeah. Probably should be early..."

There was a shuffling of papers and then, "Okay, and when are you meeting this big, life-changing, soul mate of a person?"

"Tomorrow night... we haven't set a time yet."

"Tomorrow. Jesus Christ." There was a low grumble then, "I can get you in at four in the afternoon. With your disaster of a hairstyle - if I may take liberty to even call it that - it'll take at least an hour."

Naomi nodded and made a note. "Okay. Sounds perfect."

Her voice dropping into a teasing tone Lyndsey asked, "And you have a nice dress for the date, yes?"

Naomi rolled her eyes. "I'm wearing linen trousers."

Lyndsey grunted. "You're such a lady..."

Naomi laughed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lynds."

"Four o'clock! Don't be late! I'm going to need every second of it. Oh, the horrors I will be facing tomorrow... "

"Good-bye, Lyndsey. Say hello to your staff for me."

"They'll be here tomorrow. They miss you, you big hero you."

"I'll be sure to bring them cakes or doughnuts."

Lyndsey mock gasped, "You diet wrecker, leading my girls astray. I'm hanging up on you!"

The call was cut off and Naomi laughed, shaking her shaggy head. Nothing like a conversation with her crazy hairdresser to make her laugh. She hung up and looked at her reflection again and plucked at a few errant strands. "It's not that bad," she repeated as she grabbed a beer.

Naomi spent most of the night channel surfing, watching a few episodes of Colombo and Poirot, and finally waking at eleven the next morning. Dressing in her sweats and heading out, she parked a few extra blocks from her jogging trail to make up for missing the day before. She had her iPod playing, but was paying more attention to the world around her than normal, mulling things over in her head as she mentally exercised while her body ran on automatic pilot.

Two fires in one twenty-four hour period... it couldn't be a coincidence. The only explanation was that Anfield had acquired a new firebug. The idea sickened her and made her much more aware of the people around her. The thought of someone intentionally setting fires made her want to hunt the guy down and force him to inhale several lungs full of smoke and flame. Serve him right, ignorant twat.

Of course, she thought, watching a couple of people light up cigarettes near the pond, some people might not find that to be a very painful torture. She shook her head as she followed the trail into the woods, checking her time and smiling at the result.

Tomone still hadn't returned her call, but she wasn't surprised. He was a family man, with a wife and a young daughter, and very seldom answered work-related calls on his days off when he was with Pandora. It was all right; they'd gone a whole day without a second fire. Maybe the guy had been scared off by how big the second one had gotten. Her heart told her that wasn't true; these guys liked the big booms and they got off on the fires that killed someone. They were freaks who thrived on destruction.

She fucking hated them.

She remembered once, when she was still a probie herself, when they had all been out drinking at a local pub. McClair and Tomone had headed out early and spotted a kid playing with a firework in the alley. She wasn't exactly sure what had transpired afterwards, but Tomone had assured her that the kid would never even see another match without twitching.

Maybe when she became a senior officer she'd force them to tell her.

As she was heading for the cool-down portion of her jog, she realized her mobile phone was vibrating against her hip. She slowed, checking the readout - Unknown Name - before she yanked the earplugs out and answered the phone. "Naomi Campbell," she said.

"Um... Naomi? Emily Fitch."

"Emily, hi!" she said. She stopped completely and bent forward, resting her free hand on one knee.

"Am I... interrupting something?"

Naomi realized then that she was panting into the mouthpiece like some late-night pervert. "Sorry, uh, you caught me while I was out jogging. I've been thinking about where we should go tonight."

"Oh? Do tell."

"There's a place not far from the centre of town... it's..." She swallowed and shrugged. "Well, it's kind of a theme restaurant."

Emily laughed and Naomi wondered how to save that sound as her ring tone. "It wouldn't happen to be a firefighter theme, would it?"

"Well, it just so happens that's part of its charm, but not ALL of its charm..."

Emily laughed again.

"A priest, a rabbi and a snake walked into a bar..."

"Wait, what?" Emily asked, sounding confused.

"Nothing. I just wanted to hear you laugh again." She blushed at how utterly corny it sounded, but it seemed to work as Emily laughed again.

"Smart arse," Emily accused. "Okay, I'll meet you at... uh..."

Naomi grinned. No one outside of the three emergency services could remember the name of the place. "It's called Blues and Twos."

"Mm-hmm," Emily said. "Maybe over dinner you can explain to me why it's called that. Seven all right with you?"

"Yeah, seven would be wonderful. Do... do you need me to pick you up, or..."

"That would be wonderful. Do you know the Chancellor Court flats are?" Naomi didn't so Emily gave her directions. "I'm in number 92. I'm looking forward to it."

"Same here. See you then."

"Bye Naomi."

She hung up and was about to put the phone back into her pocket when a thought struck her. She opened the phone again and dialled the police headquarters, moving from one foot to the other as she waited for the operator to answer, before asking for the joined services fire investigator Bill Martin.

She listened to the God awful hold music until the operator returned, informing her Bill had gone to the fire from the previous night to check for arson. Asking the operator to tell him she'd rung and could he ring her back, she grumbled at her timing. She really could have done with talking to him and telling him her suspicions.

Naomi stuck the phone in her pocket, thinking. She looked down the path, seemingly a few miles in the distance. As fast as her heart had been racing during the conversation with Emily, she decided maybe she didn't need to run the rest of the way. The thought of Emily banished the unpleasant thoughts the memories of the fires had brought forth and, smiling, Naomi started to walk the path.

_**x-0-x** _

She couldn't very well contract anyone to do it for her, so she was forced to take matters into her own hands. Her neighbour had a reciprocating saw that would be perfect. She'd looked forever, finally locating the tool after fifteen minutes. Though she'd seen it in action, it had taken her about half an hour to figure out how to work the damn thing properly. She could have asked her neighbour, but then the fool would know she'd taken it.

Eventually, she'd figured out how to operate the cumbersome tool and looked up at her handiwork. The rafters were sagging mightily, but the ceiling around them seemed just fine. The problem would come when the firefighters moved across it to cut their ventilation. Come to think of it, they probably used a similar tool for that, too. Poetic justice, she thought.

She put the tool back in the box the way she'd found it, hoping that she would get away without the idiot next door asking questions.

That done, she gathered the rest of her tools. She had a lot of work to do before the building was ready for the fire to start and she could smuggle the saw back into the shed. It would take a long time, she was dismayed to admit, but perfection was better than rushing through and ending up with an injured firefighter like the first time.

She was still kicking herself about that. They interviewed the survivor on the news, made him out to be some kind of hero. 'All he did,' the arsonist thought, 'was stay alive.' And what was he doing with that life? Running around playing kiss chase with the nurses, calling himself "Cookie Monster." What the hell kind of name was that for a grown man? Honestly... she regretted that the self-proclaimed Cookie had survived.

All in good time, she figured, kneeling down to set the first trap in this building, she could wait. Given time, perhaps Cookie Monster would return to work. Then she would have a personal target to shoot at. That would be fun. It was nice to have an alternative if her current approach ever got boring.

As she spilled petrol down the stairs, she looked at the abandoned building around her. "You were magnificent in your prime," she muttered, feeling a bit sad about ending this building's life. "You've been forgotten, but don't you worry." She watched the petrol flow down into the darkness. "You're going to go out in a blaze of glory. No one will be able to ignore you after tonight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors afternote: Female arsonists are extremely rare, hence Naomi saying assuming she is actually a he. I've not forgotten I've written she all the way through lol.


	7. Next to the P in SOUP

Emily lifted her leg from the tub and watched the water slide down her calf before she submerged it again. She shifted in the water and let herself sink a little to let her hair get wet. She'd been soaking for almost half an hour, her toes and fingers already hopelessly wrinkly. She had started out reading, but found herself unable to concentrate on the words. Her mind kept going back to the date she had later in the day. With a firefighter.

She had spent the last few days trying to remember what had possessed her to make the first move, but it was hopeless. Naomi Campbell was not her typical date. She tended to go for intellectual types, the kind she found in libraries with their noses buried in a giant book. She liked shy women, women who wore glasses and frumpy sweaters, the kind that really came out of their shells given the right prompt.

She shuddered in the bath and smiled at herself.

Naomi definitely wasn't her typical shrinking violet. But something about the way she had looked at the hospital... Emily wasn't a believer in love at first sight; in her mind, nothing stronger than lust was possible at first sight. The only time she had ever been in love, it had taken her a long time to realise it. Almost too long. She brought her hand out of the water and brushed her cheek, leaving a wet trail behind anyway.

Whatever the reason, she was drawn to Naomi Campbell, firefighter with nerves of steel and a quiet shy demeanour, and was powerless to stop herself.

She craned her neck and looked at the her watch sitting on the side of the bath. She had plenty of time, but she decided bath time was over. She had to get herself dollied up for her date.

_**x-0-x** _

Harrison Hair was a narrow shop with customer chairs along both walls, sinks at the back and the reception desk at the front. The front window was half-covered by the ornate sign sign stating the salons latest offers, not that Lyndsey needed to advertise too often, despite her occasional tart tongue, she was a very popular hair dresser. Not that Naomi'd ever tell her that, she'd never hear the end of it.

Ash, a sweet dark haired apprentice and one of Naomi's favourites due to her dark sense of humour, had her back to her, sweeping hair from the floor around the chairs. Coughing gently until she caught the slender girls attention, Naomi held up a bag of Tesco's doughnuts, smiling at the sparkle in the girls eye, "Hey, Ash... ready for a break?"

She looked up, grinning when she saw Naomi and the bag she was waving. "Strawberry jam?"

"Of course. Do I know you or what?"

She put down the brush and headed over, taking the bag and pecking Naomi on the cheek. "You're too good to us, too good. You should come in here more often!"

"That's what I tell her, all the good it does," Lyndsey griped, walking out of the back room of the store and shaking her head when she saw Naomi. "It's so much worse than I thought. You, what, deliberately rub soot on your head when you're at fires? This is what you do to cause me to have a heart attack?"

"You should hear her when someone with split ends comes in," Ash chuckled as he started munching on a doughnut. "End of the world time."

Lyndsey went to the nearest seat and swivelled it around, patting the back. "Okay, Firelady, you sit here. I have another appointment at five past five and I am going to need every minute between now and then on your atrocity of a head."

"Sweet talker," Naomi grinned as she walked over and took her seat.

Ash sat down in the waiting area and crossed one thin leg over the other. Naomi looked at her reflection in the mirror and said, "I thought you were sweeping?"

"And miss seeing my boss work a miracle? Never!" She took a big bite of the jam doughnut and grinned.

_**x-0-x** _

Forty five minutes later, Lyndsey turned the chair around to face the mirror and held her hands out. "There and viola," she said. She clapped once and then planted both hands on her hips. "What do you think about your hair now, Firelady?"

Naomi turned her head to look at the sides. "It's... um... nice."

"NICE?"

"And... I don't know, a little shorter?" She laughed at Lyndsey's stricken look. "What? I'm sorry! I really don't... um, I really can't tell what you did."

Lyndsey gasped and snapped her fingers at her apprentice "Get me the clippers. I'm shaving her head."

"No, no, just... what, point it out to me."

Lyndsey sighed and stepped around Naomi's seat. She picked up a bottle off her table and pointed it at Naomi like a gun. "First, this is a miracle product. Very important. You should try to find a bottle of this that you can afford on your salary, because it's very, very expensive and rare." She paused. "It's called...conditioner."

"I use shampoo," Naomi said defensively, but she took the bottle from the irate woman.

"Shampoo. Okay. Fine and dandy. Next time you go to a fire, I'll hand you a little teeny-tiny fire extinguisher and have you go to work with just that." She walked around behind Naomi and clutched her head with both hands. "Your hair, it cries to me, Naomi! It cries and I can't bear it!" She ran her hand through her 'masterpiece'. "Oh, the screams of terror from your poor, neglected hairs. Each one, like a screaming banshee to me!"

Throughout her tirade, she whipped Naomi's head back and forth, forcing her to hold onto the arm rests. When Lyndsey finally released her, Naomi said, "Okay, okay, fine." She looked again at her reflection. "So this is all just from conditioner?"

"It's not really a miracle gel, sweetheart. I also highlighted it." She put her face next to Naomi's, referring to the mirror. "Here, here... it's a little lighter blonde. Brings out your eyes."

"My eyes are blue," Naomi said.

"You want me to give you blue highlights? Punk rocker blue or little old lady blue? I have both." She feathered Naomi's hair, motioning at the mirror when she finished. "You see? I worked my usual miracle. Made you look delicious and oh-so irresistible. Your date, bah, won't know what hit her."

Naomi grinned as she started to stand up. "Thanks, Lynds... how much do I owe you?"

The eccentric hairdresser waved her arm in the air. "One promise. You will put on make-up before you go on your date. A little lipstick, even. Maybe eye-liner. Just something, because your date, she deserves to be proud of who she is with, right?"

"Okay, I promise."

"And details. That will be my tip. I want all the details. Tomorrow."

"I'm back on duty tomorrow."

Lyndsey's eyes widened and she took a step back. "You will put my masterpiece under a helmet? With smoke? Oh, why do you torture me so, Naomi? Why do you let my beauties live only for one day?"

Naomi grinned and leaned in, pecking Lyndsey on the cheek. "I'll give you all the juicy details as soon as I can. And I'll do my best to keep it from getting too mussed."

"On the job," Ash called from the reception area she was sitting in. "Avoid mussing it on the job. Finger-mussing during the date is okay."

"Dirty young pup," Naomi and Lyndsey muttered in stereo.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi headed upstairs and checked her closet, finally settling on a white shirt under a black cardigan. She wore a pair of black jeans, hoping to give the date a casual air. She nervously applied some lipstick and fiddled with some eye-liner, kicking herself for feeling so anxious. This was high school, her first kiss and coming out to her best friend all over again. She messed with her hair again, finally seeing the highlights Lyndsey had added, and exhaled sharply. "You'll do fine. She asked you out. She's already interested. Ball is in her court."

She checked her wallet, made sure her mobile phone was charged and turned on her answering machine before she stepped out into the hallway. It was six-thirty, giving her half an hour to get to Emily's apartment.

_**x-0-x** _

Chancellor Court stood four stories tall, a brick building nestled between two other similar blocks of flats. Naomi approached the building from the car parking area and looked up the narrow alleys between the buildings. Her mind immediately began calculating the problems she would face fighting a fire here; narrow alley, close proximity to the neighbours that could cause the fire to spread more easily, communal bin areas placed in shitty positions... with a strong enough wind, the entire block would be in danger.

She put the thoughts out of her mind and found the buzzer marked "Fitch." After a moment, Emily's voice came through the tinny speaker box: "Naomi?"

"Hi yeah, it's me. I'm a little early..."

"No, it's fine. Come on up."

The buzzer sounded and Naomi stepped into the building. It didn't just seem cool, it seemed chilled, or maybe that was her nerves playing with her again. She resisted the urge to shudder, took a deep breath and headed across the carpeted area, glanced at the stairs before she settled on the lift. Taking the stairs would give Emily a few extra seconds to get ready, but four flights of stairs also increased the risk that she would start sweating. The risk of sweating was already bad, considering how she reacted around this woman, so she didn't want to tempt fate.

As she rode the lift up, she second- and third-guessed herself about her decision not to bring flowers or chocolates. She just wasn't sure if that was in style any more, or if Emily only ate healthy things or, God forbid, if she had allergies. She sniffed her wrist at the thought and prayed her perfume was all right.

The lift deposited her at the fourth floor. The stairs led down to her left and the short landing offered her only two door options. The first and closest, to the right of the lift, was unpainted and neglected. Straight ahead, however, was a lovingly maintained green door with a gold 92 hanging above the peep-hole. She stepped up, rapping her knuckles just below the number and stepping back to make sure Emily could see her.

"Just a second!" The voice came from deep inside the apartment and sounded like the small redhead, so Naomi relaxed a bit. She looked down at her hands, wondering whether or not to put them in her pockets or clasp her wrist behind her back or... she sighed, knowing that holding flowers and chocolates at least gave her something to do with her hands. It was probably why the practice began in the first place.

She fiddled with the edge of her cardie and wondered if she should have heeded Lyndsey's suggestion of a dress. 'No,' she told herself firmly. 'Not at Blue's. If someone spotted me, I would never hear the end of it.'

Just as she was about to knock again, the door swung open and Emily appeared in her robe. She held up one hand and held the robe closed with the other. "No, no, before you ask... You're right on time. I'm just... a little rushed here. Sorry. Come on in, make yourself comfortable."

She opened the door a little wider and Naomi stepped inside. Emily motioned towards the living room and said, "I'll just be a minute." She disappeared down a dark corridor that branched off from the small entryway and a few seconds later a door closed. Naomi wandered past the wall that divided the kitchen and the living room, impressed at the size of the apartment.

The living room was the hub of the apartment, everything else stemming from this central point. The only light came from two lamps on either side of the room, making Naomi want to kick off her shoes and curl up for a nap. The couch and armchairs were focused on the picture window rather than the television. Naomi walked across the room, her eye drawn to the ceiling as she stepped over the threshold. A nearly opaque skylight dominated, directly over the couch. Naomi resisted the urge to whistle at the sight, instead glancing at Emily's bookshelf.

Books swarmed the four shelves, some crammed diagonally across the tops of others. She recognized a few author names, one or two books she'd been meaning to look for at the library and more than a couple that she'd bought herself. She heard the bedroom door open and smiled, turning to see Emily. "You have great... wow."

"Great wow?" Emily said, smiling. She was wearing a red cross-over style blouse, the sleeves ending just below her shoulders and leaving her arms mostly bare. The high neck of the shirt was just barely touched by the loose strands of Emily's titian hair, her brown eyes dancing in the weak light of the living room. A black skirt cut above the knee finished her outfit. "What were you going to say?"

"I..." Naomi swallowed. "I'm sorry. It was something about... books."

Emily laughed again. "So I guess I look all right?"

"Understatement," Naomi said.

"So... shall we?" Emily said, motioning at the front door. Naomi stepped forward and followed Emily from the apartment, waiting for her to lock the door before stepping into the lift. Emily pushed the button for the ground floor and they stepped back until they were standing side by side in the small space. Emily looked over and said, "You look really great tonight."

Naomi scoffed. "Next to you, I probably shouldn't have bothered. You look outstanding."

Emily laughed. "I think you mentioned something about that. But no, I'm serious. You did something with your hair, right?"

Naomi grinned in spite of herself. "You just made an over-dramatic Scouse woman very, very happy. Yes, I apparently got some highlights."

"Suits you." The lift doors opened and Naomi put her hand in the small of Emily's back as they stepped out. Emily said good-night to someone passing by them in the lobby and let Naomi hold the door for her as they stepped out into the night. There was a chill in the air and, without thinking, Naomi put her arm around Emily and drew her in. Emily smiled, "Thank you."

Naomi didn't reply, but rubbed Emily's bare shoulder to keep it warm until they reached the Jeep. "That thing you do with your hand..." Emily said.

"Errr, what... putting my hand on the small of your back?"

"Yeah, that," Emily said. She smiled for a moment and then nodded as if coming to a conclusion about something. "I like that."

"Oh," Naomi said blinking in confusion. She opened the door for Emily and jogged around the front of the car, sliding behind the wheel. "You buckled?"

Emily patted the seatbelt and said, "Yep. I'm starved; I skipped lunch in anticipation of tonight. What kind of food does Blues and Two's serve?"

"Steak, they have a lobster plate, gammon..." Her face paled and she looked at Emily. "Oh, God, you're not a vegetarian, are you?"

"Once, in university. But I was drunk and it didn't mean anything."

Naomi laughed out loud and said, "God. I'm so nervous about everything being perfect for tonight. I even decided against bringing chocolates because I didn't know if you were a health food nut or... n-not that I'm calling you a nut..."

"Naomi!" Emily laughed. "Relax! This is a date. If it goes perfectly, it goes perfectly. If not, we'll have a funny story to tell our friends at dinner parties. First dates do not make or break a relationship."

Naomi exhaled. "I'm sorry. I just... I keep feeling like I'm on a job interview. That if I don't impress you, I won't have another chance and that I'll lose you." She exhaled. "And now I'm scaring you off..."

Emily smiled in the darkness. "Naomi? What are you doing next Saturday?"

"What?"

"Humour me."

"I'm... uh, I think I'm working."

"Friday, then?"

"I don't know. I'm probably going to be off for one of those days, I think..."

Emily nodded. "Okay, then. Either Friday or Saturday, you're going to come to my apartment and I'll cook for you. It'll be our second date, which means this date is a moot point. Does that make you feel better?"

Naomi took a deep breath, "Strangely enough, it does."

Emily reached over, resting her hand on Naomi's forearm and squeezed once before taking her hand back. Naomi shuddered, forcing herself to keep her face neutral.

Riding a few minutes in silence, Naomi stole a glance at Emily and saw the other woman smiling absently. "What?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"You're smiling."

"Oh, sorry. I've... it's been a while since I've been on a date."

Naomi nodded. "Ah. So... wait, shouldn't you be the nervous one, then?"

"I don't know," Emily said. "Sometimes I feel like I'm just... numb."

When Naomi looked over again, she saw pain in Emily's eyes before she turned away. She wanted to know more, but there seemed to be a barrier between them in the car that hadn't existed a few minutes ago. Naomi hesitated, then reached over and put her hand on Emily's thigh. "I'd like to wake you up again."

She pulled her hand away, kicking herself for sounding like such an idiot, such a moronic cliché. She turned to apologize and saw a tear on Emily's cheek. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't..."

"No, it was the right thing to say," Emily said softly. "Thank you."

They continued to ride in silence until a red brick building rolled into view. Naomi said, "Okay, here we are." She pulled into the car park, passing an antique Bedford fire truck that was on display next to an old ambulance and Ford Anglia police car. Bright lights were focused on the vehicles, revealing banners that warned that this was "Restaurant Parking Only" and that "Trespassers Will Be Torched, Arrested or Intubated."

"You were supposed to tell me what that meant..."

"Blue's and Twos," Naomi said. "It's what we call our lights and sirens. All the services use it, its our lingo."

"Oh, okay," Emily said. "And you said they have steak?"

Naomi nodded. "Some of the best, melt in your mouth steak in town."

"I can't wait," Emily smiled.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi parked near the fire truck and took a moment to get her things together so Emily could get an up-close look at the display truck. The cab was open-air, with a hose wound on one side and a ladder neatly folded on top. She tried to imagine one of these dinosaurs responding to a fire in this day and age and couldn't. When she turned, Naomi was standing at the back of her Nissan and smiling over at her.

Emily hooked her thumb over her shoulder and walked back over. "You get to ride one of these every day?"

"On a bad day, I ride it three or four times. And ours is a wee bit more modern..."

Emily stepped off the platform, accepted the hand that Naomi offered, and said, "I would hope so. But still, it's impressive... such an elaborate display for a restaurant."

"Wait until you see inside," Naomi teased. She guided Emily up the pavement.

The entrance to the building was designed to look like a firehouse; the windows were framed by faux garage doors. A stone Dalmatian stood guard at the front door and Naomi rubbed his head as she passed. "For luck at my next fire," she said. Emily pulled her hand from Naomi's and headed back to rub both hands over the cold, grey head of the statue.

She walked back to Naomi and grinned. "That should take care of you for the next few fires."

Naomi laughed and opened the door to the main restaurant.

There was a line, but the hostess spotted Naomi and waved her forward. "Naomi!" the girl said with a bright smile. She turned to the next couple in line and said, "Folks, this woman is a Merseyside firefighter. Would you mind if we allowed her and her companion...?"

She didn't have a chance to finish; heads started nodding immediately. The hostess guided them through the main restaurant which had large elements of the police and ambulance services to a secondary room.

It was smaller, more intimate, with more space between the tables. Each table had a black lantern with a small candle burning inside, transforming the dining area into an intimate dining room. The hostess sat them in one of the back booths where they could have a little bit of extra privacy, even though the rest of the room seemed to be empty, and promised to send a waiter over to take their order.

"This place is fantastic," Emily said, lowering her voice despite their solitude. "I don't know why I've never heard of it before."

"All the 999 crews really keep it afloat, ask the boys as your works, they'll tell you. A lot of people get irritated by the long line, even more of them are pissed when we get to jump right to the front of it." She shook her head. "They'll eat at a restaurant made in our honour, but show us a little bit of courtesy..."

Emily picked up the menu and said, "My father used to pay for public servants when he saw them in restaurants... if someone was wearing an official t-shirt or a uniform of some kind, he'd discreetly ask the waitress to bring him their bill and he would pay for it. Ninety percent of the time, we were gone before they had any idea what he'd done."

"That happens sometimes... but don't order the steak and lobster and then cross your fingers."

"Yes, ma'am," Emily smiled. She opened the menu and scanned the photographs at the top.

Naomi glanced up from her own menu and gasped when she saw what page Emily was currently on. "Emily, don't look at the..."

"Oh, my God!" Emily whispered.

"...soup page," Naomi finished weakly. She sagged in her seat and closed her eyes in anticipation of what Emily had seen.

Next to the P in "SOUP," Naomi Campbell was standing on a pavement next to Cook in a smoke stained t-shirt. Her hair was plastered to her skull from the spray behind her and she was looking off to her right like someone on the cover of a romance novel. She had both hands in front of her, holding an adorable Labrador puppy. The photo was in sepia, the edges given the same charred effect the rest of the menu had.

Emily covered her mouth and looked up at the mortified Naomi. "Oh, my God!" she repeated.

"I didn't know they were taking that picture. Well... I mean, I saw the flash, but I did not know it was for something this public and I only agreed to let it be in the menu in the interest of charity. Cook said yes so he could pull women, Can we please move past the mocking stage?"

"Mocking?" Emily said, looking at the picture again. "Dear me, you are hot."

Naomi looked up. "What?"

"Can you buy one of these menus?"

Naomi blushed furiously and tried to snatch the menu away from her. "Give me that."

"Nuh-uh," Emily said. She turned in her seat so Naomi couldn't reach it. "I'm taking this home. I'm having it framed." She clicked her tongue and said, "My date is a celebrity. I don't know if I'll be able to contain myself."

Naomi sighed. "Do you want me to order for you, or are you just going to have soup?"

Emily turned the page and said, "All right, all right." She scanned the photos in the rest of the menu, all of them local firefighters, police officers and paramedics in various poses as they performed their duties, as the waitress, perkily named Sheila, approached to take their drink orders. They ordered their drinks and salad - Caesars for both - and sat back to wait for Sheila to return. Emily smiled. "So. The picture... do you still model?"

Naomi groaned and put her head down on the table as Emily laughed.


	8. Don't Be That Arsehole

During the entire meal, only two other couples were seated in the special dining area, but they had been placed strategically so each party was as far as possible from the others. Naomi had insisted Emily order the goat eyes, refusing to tell her what they were. When they arrived, Naomi fed one of the grilled mushrooms to her date, laughing when Emily snapped at her fingers.

Over their salads, Naomi discussed her parents, her time in the academy and some of the more memorable pranks she'd played and that had been played on her. Emily, in turn, told about her family and doctor training during the main course. Both of them bonding further over having absent parents, Naomi's mum and boyfriend off travelling and Emily's parents living in Scotland.

Halfway through the meal, Emily excused herself to use the toilets. The waitress pointed her to a small corridor branching off the main dining area. She told Naomi she'd be right back and weaved through the tables, taking time to gaze at all the marvellous memorabilia throughout the restaurant. There were dozens of framed newspaper stories. Most of the stories showed the local boys and girls in action, but some were of historic incidents and accidents from the area involving all the emergency services.

There were hoses on the walls, long hooks and various oxygen masks, even a stretcher and handcuffs tucked away framed behind glass. Rows of hats and helmets circled the wall just below the ceiling, representing the various stages of uniform changes for each service.

When she turned the corner for the bathroom, she caught sight of the most elaborate piece of firefighter memorabilia. The wall between the men's toilets and the women's was dominated by a full firefighter uniform. The helmet was flat against the wall, the crown facing out. The rest of it was arranged as if an invisible firefighter were occupying the pants and jacket.

Emily stepped up to it, looking up and imagining she could smell the smoke coming off the material. On either side of the suit hung more framed newspaper clippings from the local paper detailing rescues and fires. She recognized a few of the names - Tomone and Fleming jumped out at her - but saw no mention of Naomi in any of them. She was about to read one of the articles when she remembered why she had gotten up in the first place. Casting a final glance at the phantom fireman, she went into the ladies room.

_**x-0-x** _

By the time Emily paid - she insisted and actually slapped Naomi's hand when she reached for the bill, startling the blonde - the restaurant had mostly cleared out. They thanked the hostess and headed out into the night. Emily immediately hugged herself against the cold wind. Naomi put her arm around her date, amazed at how automatic the move already was. She kissed Emily's temple as they parted to get into her jeep.

Emily scanned the empty car park and said, "Wow, how long were we sitting there talking?"

Naomi checked her watch. "It's almost ten."

Emily whistled. "I'm so sorry! I didn't realize I was being such a chatterbox."

"Yes, well, you should have paid attention to all my complaints," Naomi grinned.

Emily put her head back, closed her eyes and let herself sway with the motion of the car as Naomi drove her home. When the Nissan came to a stop, she pretended to be asleep just to see what Naomi would do. She felt the taller woman's knuckles brush her cheek, felt the hand cup the side of her head, fingers gently running trails down her cheek. "Hey," Naomi said softly.

She opened her eyes and said, "Am I home?"

"I got you here safely," Naomi said, a gentle smile gracing her lips. The streetlight on the corner illuminated half of Naomi's face and gave her a halo. She let Naomi open the car door for her and they walked inside together. As they waited by the elevator, Emily said, "I had a great time. We're going to have to go there again."

"We?" Naomi said, smiling and raising an eyebrow. "So, with you cooking for me next week, would that be our third date?"

Emily grinned and said, "Mm, I don't know. We did have that coffee. Maybe it would be our fourth."

Naomi touched Emily's cheek and leaned down. She caught Emily's bottom lip with both of hers and turned them both until Emily's back was to the wall. Emily cupped the back of Naomi's head and moaned softly as she angled her mouth against Naomi's. They held each other for a moment before they parted. Emily's tongue flitted out and touched her top lip as she sank back to her regular height. "Hum," she said. She smiled dreamily and looked up at Naomi.

"Was that okay?"

"Hum, ho, yes," Emily said, looking up at Naomi and grinning. "Yeah. Yeah, that was... yeah."

Naomi smiled. "Well... you made me speechless at the beginning of the night. Looks like we're even."

"Looks like," Emily said. The lift doors opened with a ding and Emily sighed. "I'd invite you in for tea, but... we probably wouldn't end up drinking very much tea."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I don't have any tea."

Naomi laughed and kissed Emily again, just to the left of her eyebrow. "That's okay. I really should get home and rest."

"Just so long as you want to come upstairs," Emily said teasingly.

Naomi touched a loose strand of Emily's hair and bent down to kiss her again. She slid her hand from Emily's shoulder, down to the small of her back and settled her fingers just above the curve of her rear. Her tongue flicked against Emily's teeth, her arms tightening around the other woman before releasing her. Emily staggered back a step, touched her bottom lip and nodded. "Okay. So you're willing to come upstairs."

"Oh yeah," Naomi said softly.

Emily rose on tiptoe again and kissed the corner of Naomi's mouth. "I'll call you about next week."

"Okay."

"Thank you for dinner."

"Thank you for asking me out."

Emily laughed and stepped into the elevator. As the doors began to close, Naomi put her hand out and stopped it. "Oh! I meant to ask... I know it's kind of weird, but Jones's funeral is the day after tomorrow once my shift finishes. I'll understand if you don't want to go, it being a funeral and all, but..."

"I would love to be there for you," Emily said solemnly. "Just give me a call and let me know where and when."

"Great," Naomi said. She thought and added, "You know, we've basically just booked ourselves into at least a month-long relationship."

Emily laughed. "I'll restrain my cry of horror until I'm safely in my flat."

They exchanged their good-nights and Naomi stepped back. She hated feeling needy, but she was sad even before the lift doors fully closed. Once the doors bumped shut and the lights faded, indicating that Emily was on her way up, Naomi headed for the lobby. She made it as far as the stairs.

With little thought as to how it would look, she suddenly dashed to her left. She used the banister to whip herself around at each landing, taking the stairs three at a time, huffing and puffing until she came to a stop outside the fourth floor lift door. She made it with nearly a whole second to spare. The doors opened on Emily's still smiling face and she stepped forward before she realized there was someone in front of her.

"What..."

Naomi pushed Emily against the lift wall and kissed her. She didn't care that she was sweating or how hard her heart was beating. Emily put her hands on Naomi's forearms and leaned into the kiss. Finally, Naomi pulled away and said, "Sorry. Had to... do that..."

"Do you need mouth-to-mouth?" Emily asked with a laugh.

Naomi smiled shaking her head. She stepped back, letting her touch on the shorter woman's face linger as long as she could as Emily walked past her. "Good night, Emily."

"Good night, Naomi."

She leaned against the wall and let Emily leave, for real this time. The lift doors closed on her this time and she touched her lips as the left headed down. All in all, a marvellous date.

The night was still freezing, but she felt it a little more since she was alone. She climbed into the Nissan, wishing she'd brought a jacket, and started the engine. As the heater started to circulate warm air, she stared down at the LCD radio display and smiled. "A relationship," she muttered, a slow smile crossing her features. Who would've thought?

She started the car and pulled away from the curb. She barely noticed the ride home or the trek up to her flat. She moved like a sleepwalker and dropped onto the edge of her bed in a state of bliss. She saw the blinking light on her answering machine, meaning she had a message, but decided to ignore it. Anything worth hearing was worth waiting until the morning.

_**x-0-x** _

Freddie came into the chief's office the next morning as Naomi was signing in. She glanced up at him catching his quizzical look. "What's up, Freds?"

"What the hell happened to your hair?"

"Jealous?" she asked as she walked out of the room. She reached up to ruffle his scruffy skaters haircut as she passed him.

Freddie scribbled his name into the log and hurried to catch up with her. "No, I can't tell what's different. Did you... did you cut it?"

"I changed it a little," Naomi said. "I had a... a thing last night."

This only served to confuse Freddie further. "What kind of thing? The Fireman's Gala isn't until January, right? What kind of thing did you have?"

Naomi rolled her eyes and went into the den, dropping onto the sofa. Effy Stonham was already there, having gained control of the remote and refusing to hand it over. A lunchtime rerun of Jeremy Kyle was on, shouting at some low life about how he needed to 'put something on the end of it'. Naomi made a face and said, "This is what we're watching?"

"Better than what the other mob had in mind," Effy assured her.

Naomi had no doubt about that and put her feet up on the table. Freddie stepped over her legs and sat across from her, staring hard. "Hey, Stonham, you're a woman."

"God, he's observant," Effy wondered aloud.

"What the hell did Campbell do to her hair?"

Effy glanced over and said, "She got highlights, I think. Right?"

Naomi shrugged, smiling a little.

"Did you have a... a date?" Freddie asked, eyes gleaming.

"Freddie..." she growled, hoping she sounded threatening.

Effy slid to the edge of the couch, suddenly intrigued. "Ooh, gossip... I love it. Who was the lucky guy?"

Freddie barked a laugh and said, "With Campbell, every guy on the planet Earth is the lucky guy."

Naomi punched his leg and Freddie hooted, rubbing the spot where she'd hit him.

"What?" Effy asked.

"It wasn't a guy," Freddie said in a stage-whisper.

"Frederick!" Naomi hissed, unleashing the man's seldom-used full first name. It was the equivalent of a mother using all three names to call her child. He jumped as if she'd slapped his face gently, eyes wide. "Would you please...?"

He held up his hands. "I'm sorry, Naomi."

Naomi sighed and shrugged. She looked at Effy and held her hands out. "It was a woman."

"Oh," Effy said. Realization finally dawned on her face on she leaned back. "Oh, I see. Well... uh, w-what did... oh, I'm sorry, I didn't..."

Freddie scratched the back of his head and tried to make a dignified exit, muttering "Excuse me," as he stepped over Naomi's legs. He was halfway out of the den before he turned around. "Hey, Naomi... didn't you wanna talk to Tomone about something?"

"Right," Naomi said, half-forgetting the arsonist in the afterglow of her first date with Emily. "Is he here?"

"Right outside."

She stood and followed Freddie into the apparatus bay, surprised to see Tomone was speaking with the second person she'd been trying to contact. Fire Marshall Bill Martin was standing with the Chief in the garage door. Martin was an older man with a shock of white hair rising from the crown of his head. It was swept back, reminding her of an aging rooster. He had a pair of round eyeglasses perpetually perched on the edge of his nose, his pear-shaped middle threatening every belt she'd ever seen him wear.

She approached carefully, giving Tomone the opportunity to see her and wave her off if necessary. He glanced over and, instead of asking for a moment, motioned her forward. "Campbell. Bill tells me you were trying to get hold of him this weekend, he left you a message."

"Yeah, and you, too, boss," Naomi said.

"Oh. I had a..."

"It's all right, I know," Naomi interrupted him. She looked at Martin and said, "But if this is a bad time..."

The arson investigator shook his head. "No, we were actually trying to find you last night. What do you know about Sophia Moore?"

Naomi blinked. Of all the questions she expected, this was nowhere on the list. "Well... uh, I don't know much. She inherited her father's development and architect company a few years back. Guess it's been about a couple of years now. She's maybe overly concerned with fire inspections..."

"Has a little crush on you, doesn't she?" Tomone asked, without smiling or laughing.

Naomi stifled a groan. She was hoping this would never come up. "Well... she likes me. Requests me to do the routine inspections of her new buildings. Did something happen to her?"

"No, no," Martin said. "She came into the office today, had some information about the last two fires. Apparently, both of the buildings were Moore Development projects back in the day. They were built before she took over, but she thought there might be some kind of connection."

"Have you determined the fires were set?" Tomone asked.

"Looks that way. Fuel all over the place, down the stairs, in pretty much every nook and cranny. The back doors in both buildings were forced open, so we're thinking a group or two groups of kids were messing around, wanted to see a building burn. You guys have any kids in your lookie-loos?"

"Who knows?" Tomone sighed. "I stopped paying attention a long time ago."

"I didn't see anyone," Naomi said. "Moore thinks someone is targeting her buildings specifically?"

Martin shrugged. "Yeah, well, she's probably just paranoid." He sniffed and leaned against the wall. "Does she strike you as the kind of woman someone would target?"

Naomi sighed. "I don't know... I don't think so. She's an absolute pest, but going to these lengths just to get back at her or annoy her? I doubt it."

"Well, just kind of wanted a character witness, you know. Make sure we weren't just dismissing it out of hand." He shook Tomone's hand, making it disappear within his own meaty mitt and nodded at Naomi. "Nice to see you again, Ms. Campbell."

Naomi said good-bye to him and walked with Tomone towards his office. "That take care of what you called me about?" he asked.

"Not really," Naomi admitted. She waited until they were behind the truck, lowering her voice to keep anyone from overhearing. "I wanted to talk to you about the possibility that Moore isn't the target of these fires. We might be."

Tomone frowned. "What makes you say that?" he asked as he guided her towards her office. He shut the door behind them and offered her a seat on the couch while he headed behind the desk.

"Jones was killed in a flashover. Cook was injured in one, but it was a midget in comparison."

"You're certain it was a flashover?" Tomone asked.

Naomi nodded. "I saw the smoke seeping in around the door, but it was too late to do anything about it. As soon as he's had time to go over the investigation, I want to ask Sophia about the rooms where the flashover started."

"Well, if you're thinking the fires were flashovers, you already know what the rooms looked like; trash on top of trash, probably on top of old furniture, all of it on fire. It ate up all the oxygen in the room and when Cook and Jones opened the doors..." He let his words trail off.

"It's not the floor plan I'm interested in," she said. "It'll probably look normal, but if you look at it from the point of view of someone setting a trap..."

"A trap?"

Naomi pressed her lips together. "Cook was only burnt. It was bad, yes. But he survived and he'll be back in a few weeks."

"Actually, a couple of days," Tomone corrected. "But that doesn't mean anything. I've been in most every house you have and I know what you've seen. Piles of newspaper, piles of clothes, chimneys that have never had the dignity of being cleaned... half the people in this town are living in matchboxes without even knowing it. If you were looking specifically for a trap, every one of those fires would look suspicious."

"It's not just the flashover part. I'll concede that the majority of rooms I've seen have been less than fire-safe. But the escalation... surely you have to see that. The second fire, less than a day later, was like the first one on steroids. Someone was watching and saw that they didn't have enough oomph behind their blast. So they doubled up and made sure they took someone out."

"Okay, say this is true. We're trained to see things like evidence of a flashover. They're supposed to see it like a big, flashing neon sign that says 'stay out.' Unless he was..." He caught himself and looked away.

Naomi picked up. "Unless he was counting on someone screwing up or letting the probie go first."

"I didn't say that."

"Doesn't make it any less true. I know I screwed up, Chief. Jones is dead because of me and I have to live with that. Maybe whoever set the fire knows enough to set the trap, but not enough to know we look for those signs. Maybe he didn't realize the trap would be so obvious."

"You're saying he just got lucky with Jones?"

As much as it sickened her to admit, Naomi nodded and said, "Yes. The fact that I let Jones go in first played right into this sick bastard's plan."

Tomone rested his chin in his hand, staring blankly at the wall above her head. "Okay. So this guy isn't targeting Miss Moore, he's trying to kill firefighters. Why?"

"We won't know why until we know who. Maybe not even then."

"Okay. Then get Holt down here and get everyone into the kitchen. Gonna have a little meeting."

She stood. "Where is Holt?"

"Weight room," Tomone said.

She whistled. "Again?"

Tomone shrugged. "Some say he only took Cook's shifts so he could use our stuff."

Naomi laughed and headed out, gathering Effy and Freddie before heading to the stairs to grab Holt off the bench press. He grunted when she told him there was a meeting in the kitchen and followed her like a trained bear to the kitchen. As she took her seat at the table, Tomone clapped both hands together and said, "All right, the reason I asked you all here..."

"One of us killed old Lady Hargrove for her fortune," Freddie said with a surprisingly convincing British upper class accent.

Before Tomone could say anything in reply, the alarm began to sound. Fleming, again fielding the calls, intoned the information of address and situation. Nothing major, but enough that the ladder and engine were both going. Naomi slid into her bunkers like a second skin, climbed onto the truck and took her regular seat.

As the truck pulled from the garage, she took a look around and saw half of her crew had been replaced since their last shift. Robert Holt was in Cook's normal position up front, while Effy Stonham was sitting next to her in the back of the cab. It felt foreign, as if she was hitching a ride with a bunch of strangers.

Freddie, however, made it feel like home. He pounded the roof and whooped, making Naomi smile and making Holt blanch slightly. The radio crackled and Tomone came over the air. "Okay, I'm going to have to do it this way. I want everyone to be on their toes on this call. We lost two guys this week; I'm not losing any more."

"You heard Fleming, Chief," Freddie called back. "Gas leak. Easy-peasy."

"They're all easy until some jackass lets his guard down." He paused and then added, "Don't be that arsehole, Fredster."

Freddie laughed and said, "I will do my level best, boss."

Ignoring Freddie's laughter up front, Naomi checked her helmet to make sure it was held tight. Securing the strap, she prayed that staying safe would be as simple as paying a little extra attention for a while. A little hyper-vigilance never hurt anyone. She crossed her fingers and took a cue from Jones, closing her eyes to whisper a quick prayer.

_**x-0-x** _

The gas leak was routine stuff. Get the engine in the street, go door to door and get the people out, sit around and wait for the gas company to come out and fix the problem. After evacuating a few house, Naomi and Effy started venturing inside to open a few windows to air out the buildings. They repeated all the information they had over and over again as they ushered the residents out of their homes and down the stairs of they were in flats.

"It's all right, ma'am," Naomi was saying, helping an old lady step out of her home. "Your knitting will still be there when you get back."

"Well, that Mr. Preston a few doors down... he sometimes likes to get into things that aren't his... you'll take care of that, right, Officer? You'll make sure he doesn't take anything of mine?"

Naomi nodded, not bothering to correct the woman. If the first five corrections hadn't stuck... She simply said, "Mr. Preston will be escorted out just like you are. We're getting everyone out and then we need to wait until the gas company fix the leak. All right? All your stuff will be fine."

"Okay, but if Mr. Preston gets back in first, he better not come into my house."

"If he robs you, call the police station and ask for Officer Naomi, okay?"

Effy stifled a laugh, pulling the old woman's door shut. Once the resident was waddling down the street, Naomi turned and exhaled, shaking her head. "Little old lady thinks her Afghan rug is the Holy Grail or something."

"Amazing," Effy muttered. She followed Naomi up to the next house. "Tell people their home is in danger of bursting into flames and they suddenly have all this stuff they have to do. Do they just not get that, if their home explodes, it won't matter if their clothes are in the washing machine or not?"

"It's the 'never-happen-to-me' syndrome," Naomi said. "No one believes it will be their building because that only happens in the movies and on the news. It's up to us to impart reality to them."

Effy sighed and said, "Yeah, well, it'd be much easier to just stand on the street with a megaphone and say 'Come out now! We'll meet you here and offer you cookies.'"

Naomi laughed. At daytime, low-danger calls like this, more often than not, housewives and older women in the neighbourhood brought out cookies, lemonade and other refreshments for the firefighters with nothing better to do. The older women were looking for someone to mother, while the housewives were checking out the hot male firefighters. "Oh, yeah. What do you bet Freddie rushes through his part and grabs all the cookies?"

"I'm not taking that bet," Effy said. Reaching their respective houses, they knocked and simultaneously called, "Fire service!"

_**x-0-x** _

Despite the disparaging tone most people adopted when speaking about it, Emily loved taking the bus. It gave her time to read or, on days when her shift was particularly relentless, take a quick nap. This morning - or afternoon, really, since it was inching towards three - she was heading home after spending a hectic morning shift trying to reign in a man who'd accidentally shot himself with a nail gun. She was taking the time to enjoy a great novel she had recently stumbled over.

She was so eagerly enjoying her current chapter that she hardly noticed how long they had been sitting at what she assumed to be a red light. She finally looked up when the man in front of her turned around and sighed, "Can you believe this?"

She marked her place in the book when she realized he was speaking directly to her. She looked around and asked, "Why? What's going on?"

"Firemen have the whole street shut down. Traffic's backed up... it's going to take forever to clear this mess up." He checked his watch and slumped against the seat, turning to look fully at her. "This is just irritating, you know... I've got a big meeting to get to and, wouldn't you know it, my Beemer picks today to break down."

Emily smiled. "Aw. I'll be sure to tell my girlfriend what a terrible, terrible day you had." When he turned back around to face front, she slid out of her seat and moved to the opposite side to look down at the disturbance.

Firefighters were swarming around a large house a few hundred yards ahead, beyond the roadblock. She couldn't make out many details, but if she squinted she could just barely make out the names on the backs of their coats. She spotted a Stonham and McClair - with his height, he was almost unmistakable, even at this distance - and...

There! She spotted a tall, slender woman exit the building and stand with Freddie and Stonham. Something in the way she moved, as the old Beatles song said, but the coat confirmed it: Campbell. That was Naomi. She smiled and resisted the urge to slap the window like some giddy little schoolgirl trying to get her crush's attention. The bus inched forward and she moved her head as a street light moved in to disturb her view. Naomi spoke with her co-workers for a few moments and then headed down the pavement towards the traffic jam.

"She's walking this way!" Emily whispered.

"Who?" the alleged BMW-owner asked.

"Never mind."

As the two firefighters approached, Emily was surprised to see that Stonham was also a woman. She could tell that she and Naomi were talking, but the distance was too great to make out any words. When the two women made it within three car lengths of the bus, Emily reached up to open the window and shout before she thought better of it. She'd never seen Naomi at work, never seen her in full uniform for that matter. The urge to spy on her was too great to pass up.

Two men in jumpsuits from British Gas met them halfway and the little group paused next to the bus driver's window. Naomi seemed close enough to touch, but she looked like such a different woman. The helmet overshadowed her face, the high collar of her coat reached up and brushed her cheek when she turned to indicate the building.

As Naomi and Stonham turned to lead the gas company men down the street, Emily felt a surge of pride. She felt like every proud parent who had ever seen their child in a school play, every sideline father who saw his son score the winning cup final goal. She wanted to grab the BMW-jerk and point out the window and tell him that was her girlfriend.

That was her girlfriend.


	9. Your Brain Damage Is Kicking In

The rest of the day, Naomi wandered the firehouse going through the motions and trying her best to ignore the feeling of walking on air that she'd had since waking up that morning. Every thought ran back towards Emily, every comment reminded her of something Emily had said or done the night before. When she wasn't pining for Emily, she was trying to remember the exact tone of her laugh or the way the skin around her eyes wrinkled when she smiled.

When she wasn't doing that, she was kicking herself for acting like a complete and utter high school kid.

Other than the gas leak, they hadn't had a call the entire shift. When they returned, Tomone reiterated his radio speech, letting them know that there were concerns about the safety of fires, letting everyone know they should be on their toes for the next couple of calls. Holt had merely grunted and headed upstairs, probably upset that a call had interrupted his workout. Amazingly enough, their normally busy overnight part of their shift was deathly quiet and they spent it in bed undisturbed and rested.

Everyone else was trying to ignore the fact that Jones's funeral was set to coincide with their end of their shift at lunchtime. His mother had worked out the schedule with Tomone to be certain that all of her son's new friends could attend. Almost everyone had brought their dress uniforms to work with them that morning, planning to change at the end of shift. The wool uniforms were currently hanging in their lockers to avoid getting wrinkled, identical suits hanging breast-to-back along the wall in the dark locker area.

The only unadorned locker belonged to Effy. Naomi assumed she was going to skip the service and didn't particularly blame her; she understood that going to the funeral of the man you were replacing would feel a little weird. However, a little past seven in the morning not long after they'd got up, Tomone called Effy into his office and had a short discussion with her. Afterwards, she made some noise about needing to head home sometime before noon to pick up her uniform.

When she had a spare moment, Naomi headed outside with her mobile phone to call Emily and let her know the funeral details. She leaned against the wall, facing the street as she dialled Emily's number. Freddie and Effy hadn't been giving her a moment's piece and, to keep them from eavesdropping, she'd finally moved it outside. "Emily? It's Naomi. I didn't wake you, did I?" At dinner, Emily had mentioned working the night shift at the hospital the next night.

"No, it's all right. I was just napping," Emily said, contradicting herself. "What's the plan?"

"The funeral starts at 1:30, so I was thinking I would swing by your place around an hour before that."

"That sounds perfect. I'll be ready to go at about 12:30," Emily said. After a moment, she added, "You know, I saw you on my way home from work yesterday."

"Oh, yeah? Where? You drive by the station or something?"

"No, it was in the city centre. You were working... some kind of gas leak or something...?"

"Oh!" Naomi said. She watched a large expensive Audi pull into the firehouse parking lot as she tried to remember the scene of that afternoon's fire, watching until it moved out of sight before she finally asked, "Where were you?"

"On the bus."

Naomi thought for a second, trying to remember a bus. "Bus... oh, yeah, I saw that. Effy and I were right by it. Why didn't you try to get my attention? It would've been nice to see you."

"I don't know. I just... I'd never seen you in your uniform and looking all... hot."

Naomi was glad she'd moved outside; she would never have lived down the deep crimson blush she currently had going. "So...you were spying on me?"

"A little," Emily admitted.

Naomi smiled. "Well, I'll just have to remember that. See about getting some revenge."

"I'll be on the look-out."

They said good-bye and hung up, Naomi heading back into the station. Freddie intercepted her halfway across the apparatus bay, putting an arm around her shoulder and forcibly steering her back the way she'd come. "Hey, Campbell, what's up, how you doing, fancy a Pepsi, yeah? Me too, let's walk to the store, my treat."

She glanced sideways at him as her feet barely touched the pavement. "Freddie, your brain damage is starting to kick in."

"Just walk," he said, looking over his shoulder.

"You're freaking me out, Freds."

They were halfway to the big garage doors when she heard someone shout "Naomi!" from the kitchen.

She groaned and stopped as she recognized the voice. She looked at Freddie, patting him on the arm and whispering, "Bless you for trying my friend." She turned and faced Sophia Moore with a fake smile plastered on her lips. "Ms. Moore. What a... surprise."

"A pleasant surprise, I would hope," she said, walking towards her.

"It's a surprise," Naomi said, forcing herself to approach her. "What... are you doing here?"

"I simply wished to express my condolences for your fallen brother. If your Mr Martin determines that these fires are indeed aimed at me or my company, I feel it would be my duty to make amends for..."

Naomi held up her hands to stop her. "We're just doing our jobs, Ms Moore. There's no need for..."

"Oh, please! I insist! And with the funeral being today..."

"You are NOT coming to the funeral," Naomi said, unable to stop the words before they were out and feeling Freddie's reassuring solid bulk backing her up to her side. "I mean... i-it's probably just going to be a family affair. The people he worked with, his family, things like that. I don't think his mother wanted a big spectacle..."

"Well, I'm sure one more person..."

"It really wouldn't be right. I'm sorry, Ms. Moore, but we have to ask that you not attend."

She appeared crushed, but nodded slowly. "Okay. I understand. Thank you for your candor, Naomi."

"Ms. Campbell."

Sophia pinched a smile and said, "Yes, yes, of course. Well, I should get going. Thank you for your time, Na... Ms. Campbell. Mr. McLair."

Freddie grinned and said, "Not a problem, Ms. Moore."

Sophia slipped between them and headed for the door. When he was gone, Freddie whistled and draped an arm back over the tall blondes shoulder, "Ooh, boy howdy, that was harsh."

"The woman has been harassing me for close to a year," Naomi said as they walked towards the kitchen. "Maybe now she'll stop requesting me for her inspections. I don't mind doing my share, but..." She froze when she saw the kitchen. "What is all this?"

"Moore brought it," Effy explained as she buttered a crumpet. "She's alright."

"Yeah," Naomi scoffed. "I'll let you take a couple hundred of her inspections, see how much you like her then." She was still a little awed by the spread though. The table was covered with packets of crumpets and muffins, bags of doughnuts, a large bowl of fresh fruit, two tall cartons of orange juice, a carton of milk, bacon, sausage, eggs, bags of bread... the house was set for at least a week's worth of breakfasts. Or two days, depending on how much restraint Freddie and Naomi were able to display.

Naomi took a seat, picking up a bunch of grapes and plucking one from the stem. "Okay, I've only met her the once. But you gotta admit," Effy said, motioning with her strawberry jam-drowned piece of toast, "the woman knows how to say thank you. Once, at Kirkby, we pulled this guy out of a smoky apartment. Wasn't breathing, had to perform CPR, I think they even put him in that hyperbole chamber."

"Hyperbaric chamber," Freddie corrected.

"Right," Effy nodded. "Anyway, once he was all better, he shows up at the firehouse with a brand-new big screen TV. Just in time for the World Cup finals too. We got to watch Spain win in style."

"Never mention those rat bastards again," Freddie said, eyes aflame with hatred.

Effy looked up, eyes wide, and looked to Naomi for help. She smiled and explained, "Freddie had to give everyone in the firehouse a tenner."

"Because..."

"We're not allowed to say why," Naomi interrupted, winking. "It wasn't the most charitable donation we've ever received."

Freddie grumbled, "It was a sure thing... they should never have beaten the Dutch and they go and win the day I try to make some dough," and went back to devouring a banana.

"What are you doing after this?" Effy asked.

"Toilets," Naomi groaned. "When I took the test to become a firefighter, I had no idea the job description included cleaning toilets."

"Or windows," Freddie said. "Man, maids don't even do the windows any more."

"Neither do you, Streaky," Naomi said poking her finger in his cheek and smiling as he tried to bite her. "Why d'you ask, Effy?"

She shook her head. "I need to run back to my apartment and pick up my dress uniform."

"I thought you went already?" Naomi said.

"I did. It was a little wrinkled, so my fiancée offered to get it pressed for me."

"Your fiancée does your laundry?"

Effy held her hands out in a 'what-do-you-want-from-me' gesture. "He offered, I needed it done... what's the problem?"

"Man no use iron," Naomi grunted. "Man make fire. Man kill thing, wife barefoot and pregnant."

Freddie held up his hands. "Whoa, now, whoa... don't make me out to be some sick chauvinist. I'm modern, I'm a sensitive guy... but it just seems weird that the future Mr. Effy is standing at home with an apron, hunched over an ironing board while his bride-to-be is out fighting fires. It's topsy-turvy's all."

Naomi was about to say something smart in return when Robert Holt wandered into the kitchen. He was dripping with sweat, his t-shirt sleeves cut off at the shoulders. He glanced at the food on the table, not saying a word as the three people seated there followed him with their eyes. He opened the fridge, withdrew a jug of fruit punch and chugged half the bottle.

Releasing a healthy belch, he screwed the cap back on and replaced it in the fridge. He wiped his mouth on his forearm and left the kitchen again. Freddie shook his head and said, "That dude is fucking weird."

"Talking about me behind my back, are ya?"

Naomi jumped. She hadn't even seen the new arrival until his arm was around Freddie's neck, his free hand flat on top of his captive's scruffy haircut. Freddie froze, eyes wide, lips pressed out as if he was trying to whistle as his hands went to the arm wrapped around his throat. "Holy...!" Freddie gasped.

Effy and Naomi were out of their seats, Naomi barely believing her eyes. "Cookie?"

"The one and the same, darling," he said, grinning brightly. He released Freddie, who gasped and spun around to confirm the owner of the voice. Cook reached out and clasped Naomi's hand, chuckling evilly. "How's the No-Boys-Allowed Firehouse doing without me?"

"We're dragging ourselves through each day," Naomi assured him, moving around Freddie for a hug.

"My trachea is fine, by the way," Freddie rasped.

"Big baby," Cook muttered with a grin. He slapped Freddie on the back and turned to Effy. He squinted and pointed a finger at her. "Now, I know you're one of the Stonems... so you've got to be..."

"Elizabeth, Effy for short"

Cook clapped once and said, "Effy! We got Effy in the firehouse!" He shook her hand and said, "James Cook. Cookie to those who know me. Pleased to meet you."

Naomi shook her head and examined her friend. He was wearing his dress uniform, every thread precisely where it belonged. His gloves were tucked into the jacket pocket, the fingers sticking out and draping over the edge. His cap was the only thing missing, but it was most likely out in the apparatus bay. The only incongruous parts were the bandages wrapping around his neck and ears. "They let you out of the hospital, huh?"

"Oh, well, special occasion and all," he said, indicating his uniform. "I gave them my puppy dog eyes and a little bit of the bottom lip..." He turned to Effy, widening his eyes and puffing his bottom lip out to Oliver Twist-levels. "I got a day-pass. They're not letting me come back to work until next week. The bastards. I'm fine now. I'll find an excuse to hang out here, you got my word on that."

"Yeah, but I don't want to be behind you in a fire when that fancy new skin of yours starts flaking off," Naomi said.

Cook scoffed. "Women." He sighed and patted Freddie on the shoulder. "Is Tomone around?"

Naomi nodded. "He should be nearby. C'mon, Effy, we'll go see if we can round him up."

"Okay," Effy said, unsure of why she had to go. They headed out into the apparatus bay. Naomi glanced back and saw Cook take Effy' seat, putting an arm around Freddie's shoulders. He had known how close Freddie and Jones were, knew how the death had to be hitting the tall man. Naomi moved on, giving the men their privacy.

_**x-0-x** _

Cook and Tomone sat in the lawn chairs out front and sipped their soft drinks while they talked about the calls the engine had taken in the past few days. From the locker room, Naomi could hear them laughing and joking about Holt's constant weight-room presence. She and Effy were in the locker room, the curtained-off space expanded to take up the extra room necessary for a second woman.

Naomi had taken off her t-shirt and was reaching for her dress blouse when Effy said, "Can I ask you a personal question?" Effy asked.

Naomi tensed slightly, but said, "Sure."

"Freddie's little... slip the other day. About you... being..."

"Do you want me to leave until you're dressed?" Naomi asked sincerely. They were both in their bras, but Naomi had her trousers on. Effy was standing just behind her in a pair of boxer shorts.

Effy laughed, "No, don't be silly. I was just wondering if it made it easier or harder to be in the department."

Naomi frowned and cocked her head to one side. "What do you mean?"

"Well, for one thing, you probably don't have guys hitting on you all the time. That's gotta be... pleasant."

Naomi laughed. "Oh, please. The fact that I'm not interested doesn't deter some of them one iota. If anything, it makes them more determined. A couple of guys in training thought that I'm only gay because I haven't spread my legs for the right guy yet."

"Right," Effy said. "Just like Freddie and Tomone are only straight because they haven't found the right queen to bend them over a chair."

Naomi laughed and said, "Oh, God, do not let them hear you say that!" She pulled her dress shirt out of the closet and shook her head. "Wearing a shirt and tie, cleaning toilets... and here I thought running into burning buildings would be the worst part of my job."

"I'd give anything to be running into a burning building right now," Effy griped as she worked her hair into a bun. "So it doesn't give you any... I don't know, special camaraderie with the guys?"

"Just because we happen to like sleeping with the same people?" She shrugged. "I didn't get very much respect in the department until I dragged Freddie through a window. Not only saved his life, but showed the boys I could do all the stuff they could. They warmed to me after that... and after I strung up this sheet so they wouldn't have to sacrifice their entire den."

"Why would they...?"

"The big wigs down at headquarters wanted to give me my own locker room. If the measure passed, they would have changed the den into a women's locker room. So I went out and campaigned against it, making sure the bill didn't get voted in and then I just put this up. It showed them that I was a team player."

"So it's all political, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Naomi sighed. "You just have to roll with the punches."

Effy nodded. "I know. It just sometimes feels like we're gonna keep taking the punches until the guy hitting us gets a sore shoulder."

Naomi grinned and finished buttoning her blouse. "Very apt."

"So are you seeing anyone?"

Naomi shrugged, a picture of Emily popping into her mind. "I have someone I'm currently very fond of, yes." She pulled on her trousers, tucked the shirt into the waistband and fastened the belt. Wiggling her toes in the tight black socks, she half-turned and said, "Can you imagine if we got a call right now?"

"Oh, yeah," Effy laughed. "I can see the headlines now... 'The Dapper Department.' Firefighters responding to a blaze in suits and ties."

"Screw that," Naomi said. "If I have to go into a fire, I'm going in naked before I get this thing dirty." She angled the mirror on her locker door and bent down, trying to watch as she wound the tie around itself. "Damn things... most departments in this day and age have clip-on ties. It's the wave of the future. Keeping these horrific little... tying ties... is like keeping a typewriter when a computer will do."

"Or having laces when Velcro tightens your shoes just as well," Effy said as she stepped in front of Naomi, slapping the blondes hands away. "Here. You're hopeless... let me get it." She reached up, undoing the sloppy knot Naomi had made and redoing it in a few seconds. She looped and knotted the tie, then pulled the knot tight against Naomi's throat. "Too tight?"

"No, it's good. Thanks."

Effy stepped back to her locker and pulled her jacket off the hanger. "Does your girlfriend usually tie your tie for you?"

"There's no 'usually' with us... I mean, we just started going out."

"Oh, I see," Effy said. "Well, you better make sure she can tie a tie before it gets too serious. I've seen relationships crumble for smaller reasons."

Naomi laughed and said, "I'll keep it in mind."

_**x-0-x** _

Emily, unsure of what to wear, went on-line and searched for fire service funerals. All the images she could find showed scores of firemen in identical black suits and caps, the picture of formality. All the firefighters seemed to be wearing a regulation dress uniform and she didn't see many civilians in any of the photos she found, so she had to decide what to wear based on the dress uniforms. She headed to her wardrobe and summarily disqualified and ruled out almost everything she owned.

After about twenty minutes of debating with her inner fashionista, she withdrew a simple maroon gown and laid it out on the bed. The dress was an appropriate length for a funeral, wide shouldered and not too low-cut. The only markings on the dress were the narrow threads breaking up the smooth expanse from the bottom of her breasts down to her waist and a smattering of violets running along the hem. She shed her robe and slipped into the dress and stood in front of the mirror to refresh her memory of how it looked on her. She reached up to gather her hair, testing it both up and down to see which complimented her better.

She primped and preened for a few minutes, then told herself to stop being silly. Naomi, after all, probably wasn't acting like a giddy high school senior on her way to the prom. She sighed and let the dress fall. She slipped out of her underwear and went to the run the water for her bath.

_**x-0-x** _

Tomone stepped out of his office with both arms held out, his wrists turned out as if he expected to be handcuffed. "Would someone give me a damn hand here?" he asked. Naomi walked by with her hand over her eyes. "Campbell, would you mind..."

"Sorry, Tommo," she said. She kept her hand firmly over her eyes and said, "If I look at you in your dress uniform, I may have to revoke my homosexuality."

"Cause you look so damn fine," Freddie grinned as he stepped up to fasten Tomone's cufflinks for him. Tomone sighed as Freddie's long fingers managed the small holes with ease.

Effy walked by, fitting her cap over her bun. "Ooh, men dressing men. Does he tie your shoes for you, too, Guv?"

Tomone grumbled, "I'm just not that good manipulating at small things... that's all."

"Then how do you aim in the bathroom?" Cook asked.

"Are you still here, Charcoal?" Tomone snapped.

Cook held his hands up. "Whoa, whoa, not nice making fun of the nearly fried guy over here. Lucy Meacock on Granada called me a hero."

"Granada also shows Jeremy Kyle and Loose Women," Tomone pointed out. "I'm not exactly holding my breath for their Oscar or whatever the hell award they give TV stations. Now come on, let's get a move on, boys and girls." He pulled his cap on and Naomi glanced back at him. All joking aside, the well built handsome man was born to wear the dress uniform. It was enough to make any woman take a second look.

They spread out to their own cars. Tomone paused to talk with the incoming watch commander before he joined them in the car park. "We gonna convoy to the church?"

"I can't," Naomi said. "I have to pick up Emily."

He gave her a thumbs-up and said, "Everyone else?"

"Sounds good to me," Cook said. "I don't know where the church is."

Freddie banged the roof of his trunk and said, "Carpool with me, Cookie"

Cook hurried to catch up and slid into the passenger seat of Freddie's truck. The watch pulled out together, lining up behind Tomone's truck. When Naomi's Nissan pulled off towards Emily's apartment, Effy, Freddie and Tomone all sounded their horns in farewell. She waved through the window at them, honked her own horn in return and laughed when she saw all the other motorists' looks of confusion.

_**x-0-x** _

Emily was putting the finishing touches on her make-up when there was a knock on the door, she'd already buzzed Naomi into her building. "Perfect timing," she smiled at her reflection. She shut off the lamp and hurried down the dark hallway, her bare feet making shush-shush noises in the carpet. "Just a minute!" she said, pausing in the foyer to slip into her shoes. She smoothed the bodice of the dress, grabbed her bag and opened the door.

"Oh, wow," she gasped, unable to restrain herself.

She'd seen the photos on-line, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Naomi Campbell standing at her door in full dress uniform. The jacket was jet black, save for a white stripe circling each wrist. Brass buttons gleamed on her chest, the black tie perfectly knotted under her chin. She wore a military-like cap that shielded her eyes, her blonde hair feathering out in the back.

When Naomi brought one hand up to fiddle and pull nervously with her collar, Emily saw that she was wearing fine white gloves with three pleats on the back running from her wrist up to her fingers. She exhaled and finally blinked, taking a step back. "You... look magnificent."

Naomi shifted from one foot to the other, looking down at herself. "I look like the guy in those ads trying to get kids to join the Army." She looked up and said, "You, on the other hand..."

"Is this all right? I-I wasn't sure what was appropriate..."

"This is more than appropriate," Naomi interrupted. "You look gorgeous. Gorgeous." She tilted her head and said, "If I could, just..."

Emily nodded.

Naomi stepped forward and brought her hands up. Emily bowed her head as Naomi reached around and cupped the back of her head. Her fingers slipped around for a bit and, when she stepped back, Emily felt her hair fall loose onto her shoulders. Naomi brushed her fingers through the freed strands and said, "Yeah. Perfect."

"Thank you." She extended her arm and said, "Shall we?"

Naomi took the arm and tucked it against her side as she escorted Emily to the elevator. Emily couldn't help smiling; after a lifetime of being the background, being the blood-smeared anonymous face in an emergency room, now she felt wanted, attractive... loved. She covered Naomi's hand with her own and rested her head on the taller woman's shoulder.

_**x-0-x** _

She couldn't resist. It was just too sweet. Too perfect.

She sat in the back pew and tried to remain inconspicuous. The family was already here, the mother in tears while the father stood his ground stoic, proud. His son had died a hero. Yeah. Hero. He died trying to save a room filled with ratty furniture. Where's the parade and brass band? Big whoop-de-doo. The daughter, the dead fireman's sister, was a mess. Make-up streaking down her face, sobbing against her mother's shoulder. It was truly a spectacle... someone should've done something about it, but no one did. Stupid people with the boundaries.

The firefighters arrived en masse, sweeping into the room like the Knights of the bastard Round Table. Crisp black suits, hats pulled low to hide their eyes. They looked more like the Mafia, now that she thought about it. Here to bury one of their own, a very closed-off, fraternal organization. Yeah, just like the Mafia.

She supposed that made her a female Eliot Ness. Cleaning up the city, one dirty mobster at a time. She resisted a smile at that and scanned the crowd of firemen for her special project. She panicked when she didn't see her; had she decided not to come? She knew she had been right behind Jones when he died. Maybe the guilt had finally gotten to her.

Fuming, she stood and headed for the back of the sanctuary. No one saw her go, which was fortunate; not many people stormed out of a funeral muttering curses. She'd wanted at least a few more fires of playing with Campbell. If she was going to break this easily, she had been sorely mistaken in choosing her for her pet project, regardless of what her partner thought.

She climbed into her car, ready to burn rubber when she spotted a familiar grey jeep slide into an empty space.

Naomi Campbell got out of the driver's side, went around the front of the car and opened the passenger door. She put her arm around an attractive woman with long red hair, guiding her to the front of the church. What was this? Jones's wife? Or perhaps...

She looked again at how Campbell's hand rested in the small of the other woman's back. It was such a natural gesture, so easy, so...

Intimate.

Her eyes widened and she pressed back against the seat, watching the door of the church long after Campbell and her... her... the other woman... had gone inside. This changed things, she told herself. This changed things _dramatically._


	10. Hold On Real Tight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gave JJ a bit more family in this to fit this better. :-)

Emily was allowed to sit with Naomi and the rest of the company in the front pew reserved for pallbearers. Tomone, Naomi, Cook and Freddie were four of the volunteers, while JJ's best friend and father took up the front positions. Emily sat between Naomi and Jones's friend, a beefy twenty-something kid with eyeglasses and a pencil-thin moustache. He continually lifted his glasses and blotted his eyes with a tissue. Cook, she noticed, had become the epitome of class. His evil grin, the playful gleam in his eye, everything that made him "Cookie Monster" was hidden behind a veil of reverence and dignity. Freddie had done the same. His gentle eyes showing genuine upset, those big hands flexing and unflexing rapidly.

As the service began, Emily reached over and took Naomi's hand. Naomi squeezed it, her hand like steel through her cotton gloves. The priest spoke of JJ's contributions, of his devotion for the church and the programs he ran with the kids. He revealed that JJ had approached him for a Junior Firefighter Program in the church which would teach primary school kids how to observe basic fire safety in their homes.

The friend sitting next to her stood when the priest motioned him forward. He walked onto the stage and took the podium from the priest. "Hi, I'm JJ's friend, Mike." He sniffled softly and he looked down at his hands for a moment before he started speaking. "Jay... man, he always wanted to be a fireman. Since we were kids and we were playing with matches, he was always the one who squirted us with the garden hose." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, Mrs Jones, by the way..."

The audience laughed softly.

"I heard that when he died, Jay was serving as the hose man. He was leading the way into that fire. It was fate that he happened to die on that assignment, but I know that he died proud. And I want to thank whoever gave him that opportunity."

Emily felt Naomi's hand tighten around her own and looked up and saw tears glistening at the corners of Naomi's eyes. Emily reached over with her other hand and touched Naomi's bicep. Naomi covered Emily's hand with her own and smiled weakly.

The friend finished his speech and joined them again on the pew.

The priest resumed his place and motioned to Chief Tomone.

Tomone stood, causing every firefighter in the room to turn and look at him in surprise, Thomas was never known for speeches. He straightened his jacket and stepped up on stage, his shiny-as-new shoes squeaking on the wooden floor as he took his place.

He cleared his throat and whispered a thank-you to the priest. He gripped the lectern with both gloved hands and flexed his fingers before he spoke. "I'm going to give the people who know me a few seconds to close their mouths..." A gentle laugh undulated across the gallery. "I'm Watch Commander Thomas Tomone. I was Jonah's boss for the few months he was on the ladder and the engine. Before he moved over to Blue Watch, I had a talk with him and asked him what he wanted to do. He said, 'Fight fires.' I asked him if he wanted to be a hero and he looked me in the eye and said, 'I want to be a firefighter, sir.'

"JJ wasn't a firefighter for very long, only a few months. But we shouldn't forget that he was a firefighter." He pursed his lips, flexed his fingers on the edge of the podium again and then shrugged. "That's it. That-that's all."

He turned, shoes squeaking, and stepped off the stage. After a few moments of silence, the priest returned to the lectern and said, "Thank you, Chief. If no one else would like to speak, Jonah's sister, Sarah, requested that she be allowed to sing a special song for her brother. Sarah?"

A lovely teenage girl with curly brunette hair stepped onto the stage, taking a microphone from the stand. She waited for the organist to begin a hymn and began singing something that Emily vaguely remembered from her days in the church. She couldn't quite recall the words, simply getting a flashback to sitting in a pew and squirming in her least-favourite gingham dress next to her sister, doodling on the bulletin and wondering how long it was until lunch.

She looked over at Naomi, who had her eyes closed and her lips pressed tightly together. Her jaw was working madly, her brow furrowed and her nostrils flaring. She squeezed Emily's hand, then released it and rose suddenly. She stayed low, ducking her head down and hurrying down the aisle until she exploded out the back doors of the sanctuary. A few people turned to mark her passage, but Sarah Jones showed no sign of disturbance.

When the song was finished, there was a polite smattering of applause. Emily stood, eased down the row and followed Naomi's escape route to the back of the church. She found Naomi in the foyer, hugging herself tightly and looking out the glass doors at the car park. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, rubbing her hand up and down the woman's arm, ruffling the tailored sleeve.

Naomi turned and looked at her with red-rimmed eyes. "Sorry, it all got a bit much. I got pulled out of a fire when I was a kid. Our flat was on fire and they got my mum out. They went back and got me, saved my life. I thought the fireman was a monster at first. But he saved me. And then I saw him without his helmet and... he was just an ordinary man." She looked out the door again, her hands balled into fists. "When I was seventeen, he died. House fire. Ceiling collapsed. It was... years later, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that he died in exchange for me. He died so I could live. It's why I became a firefighter. To make up for his life. Now... JJ is dead for me, too."

"He didn't die because of you, Naomi. There's no way to know what will happen in fires or... hell, walking down the street. Would you have felt so guilty if that first fireman had died of a heart attack?"

"But he didn't. He died in a fire."

"That doesn't matter." Emily put her arms around Naomi and held her tightly. "You've made up for what that man did for you. You saved the lives of others. Fate is repaid."

The doors to the sanctuary opened and the priest stepped out. "Ms. Campbell? They're ready for the pallbearers now."

Emily turned her head until her lips were against Naomi's ear. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah," Naomi whispered. She pecked Emily on the cheek and slipped from her arms. "Okay sir, I'm coming," she said to the priest. She let her hand trail down Emily's arm in an effort to stay in contact with her as long as possible. She turned at the sanctuary door and tossed Emily her keys. "You can wait in my car for me if you want... I'll be there in a few minutes."

Emily nodded and mouthed, "Okay" as Naomi ducked back into the sanctuary. The doors were pushed open a few moments later and held in place by two teenage ushers. Jones's fiancée, mother, and sister were the first ones out and Emily stepped aside to let them pass. They waited outside as the rest of the mourners filed out into the suddenly chilly afternoon. Finally, the pallbearers appeared.

She felt a surge of sadness and pride as she watched Naomi taking the right centre section of the casket. The firefighters, resplendent in their dress uniforms, were a sharp contrast to the more casual suits of Jones's family members. Emily waited until they passed, then slipped out the side door and headed for Naomi's car.

The door was unlocked with a remote entry button and she climbed inside, turning to watch as Jones was loaded into the hearse. When she turned back, she spotted several CDs tucked between the driver's seat and the console. Looking over her shoulder to make sure Naomi wasn't coming, she pulled them out and catalogued Naomi's music choices. The Who, Rolling Stones, The Doors, Pink, nothing too surprising until... She gasped when she found Billy Joel's Greatest Hits. She giggled and turned the case over to read the track listing.

When the door opened and Naomi climbed in, Emily held up the CD. "Busted," she said.

Naomi looked at the case and took it from Emily, tucking it between the seats again. "An old girlfriend got that for me... I should toss it out or sell it on-line or something..."

"I wasn't making fun of you," Emily said. "I like Billy Joel. 'Piano Man' might be my favourite song."

Naomi held the wheel for a second and stared out the wind-shield. "Who is the real-estate novelist?"

"Paul. And he never had time for a wife."

Turning in her seat and leaning close, Naomi lowered her voice, "No one hears about this, especially not Freddie and Cook."

"Not from me," Emily assured her, stoking the pale cheek of her girlfriend.

"Okay," Naomi said, turning her head to press her lips to the young doctors palm. "If you swear." She took the disc from the case and fed it into the player. When she started the jeep, the harmonica signalled the intro to 'Piano Man.' Emily grinned and fastened her seatbelt.

They joined the procession behind Tomone's truck and directly in front of Freddie's 4x4. Emily turned in her seat, waving her fingers at Freddie. He leaned forward and pushed his nose up with his thumb, poking his tongue out at her. She laughed and said, "Freddie and Cook look unexpectedly... grown-up in their dress uniforms."

"Yeah, it has a maturing effect on us all," Naomi said with a smile. "Because every minute wearing them feels like an hour to us."

Emily reached over and stroked the sleeve of Naomi's jacket. "Still... you have to admit, it's very... appealing."

Naomi looked down at Emily's hand, looked at Emily, then looked back out at the road. She cleared her throat and said, "Mm-hmm."

"What are your plans for after the cemetery? You're off-duty, right?"

"Mm-hmm. Why, did you have something planned?"

"Not particularly," Emily said. She leaned back in the seat and shrugged. "I just... I don't want to leave you."

Naomi smiled. "Well, I'll see if I can think of something."

"Try your hardest," Emily said. "If I have to, I'll go to the firehouse and wash trucks with you."

Naomi laughed and reached over. She slid her hand between Emily's shoulder and the seat and rubbed Emily's back. "Thank you. I didn't think I would be laughing today."

They went the rest of the ride in silence, Naomi occasionally humming along with Billy Joel as he sang about Captain Jack's private island. When they pulled into the cemetery, Naomi reached down and silenced the piano man. They parked along a narrow gravel road, the doors of every car in the procession seeming to open on cue and a sea of grey and black suits and uniforms poured from the cars.

Emily walked around the back of the car, intercepting the woman everyone was calling Effy, and met Naomi on the other side. Naomi said she'd meet up with them soon, hurrying down the row with Freddie to unload the hearse. Effy and Emily walked together down the gentle slope towards the large green tent covering a freshly dug hole.

"I fucking hate funerals," Effy muttered.

Emily looked at her for a moment, trying to determine if it was an attempt at conversation or just a general observation. After a moment, she said, "Yeah, they're awful."

"I'm Effy Stonham, by the way."

"Emily Fitch."

"Fitch. That's an interesting name."

Emily smiled. "So is Effy."

The other woman smiled and then looked over her shoulder. Her smile faded quickly. Emily turned and saw the pallbearers were carrying the casket down a gravel walkway rather than heading downhill with it. They carried it past the mourners and carefully placed it upon a contraption meant to lower it into the ground. Emily's eye caught on the mother and fiancée, who were clinging to one another in the front row. When Naomi was again by her side, Emily wrapped an arm around her and put her head down on one sturdy shoulder. She felt Naomi's soft glove in her hair and closed her eyes.

The priest spoke again and Jones's sister stood. This time, she sang "Dream a Little Dream of Me." Naomi lowered her head and her lips were against Emily's ear. "Do you have a shift tonight?"

Emily shook her head, the intimacy of Naomi's whisper threatening to send her into convulsions. She felt Naomi's fingers tighten on her shoulder, just a slight gesture, there and gone. But Emily smiled and pressed her face against the wool of Naomi's jacket. It was so warm. Cozy, even. She wondered what it would be like to curl up naked in this jacket... she wondered if maybe she'd get a chance to find out soon. Then she silently berated herself for letting her feelings wash over her at a funeral.

The service ended and the priest thanked everyone for coming out. He led the group in prayer and then sent them away "with God." Jones's mother, a matronly woman with frizzy blonde hair, made her way over before the firefighters could escape. "You worked with Jonah?"

"Yes, ma'am, we did," Freddie replied.

She took each of their hands in turn, giving each one a shake before moving to the next one. "Jonah spoke of you all often. You treated him well."

"He was a good man, Mrs. Jones," Tomone said.

The corners of Cook's mouth twitched, but he contained himself before the woman saw it. She thanked them all again and then allowed her son's fiancée to lead her up towards the cars. Naomi asked, "What was the smile about, Cook?"

"Me-ee and Missus... Missus Jo-ones," Cook sang, finally releasing his smile.

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Better off not knowing."

They headed up the hill and Freddie put an arm around Cook. Together, they half-whispered, half-sang, "Got a thaaang going on..." Emily grinned; Cookie was back.

Ignoring the men, Naomi put her hand in the small of Emily's back and said, "I'm going to go to the firehouse and change, then we'll go to your apartment so you can change into something more comfortable."

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere without a dress code," Naomi said. "I'm not specific on all the details yet, but I know that much."

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi and Effy changed on one of the sheet while the guys were changing a few feet away on the opposite side. Freddie said, "We shoulda put the ladies next to a window. Then we'd get them sexy silhouettes on the sheet. Hindsight and all that."

"I'm sorry, Freddie," Effy said. "Did you say hindsight or harassment?"

Naomi had a hoodie and jeans in her locker and changed into them in record time. Carrying her Converse in her hand, she wrapped the tie from her dress uniform around her eyes and crossed the barrier between boys-side and girls-side. "Don't worry, guys, no peeking... the blindfold is as much for me as it is for you."

When she'd made it clear of the locker area, she pulled off the tie and stuffed it into her pocket and shoved her feet in her trainers. Holt was crossing the apparatus bay, puffing on a cigar and apparently heading for the front of the garage. "Hey, Holt!" she called, waving politely at him. He turned and frowned at her. "Did you go to the funeral?"

"Nuh-uh," he said.

"How's the gym?"

"Eh."

"Well, nice talking to you."

He nodded and lifted his cigar in a salute before he turned around again. She went into the kitchen where Emily was waiting and touched the brunette on the shoulder. "Ready?" she asked.

"Mm-hmm," Emily said.

They said good-bye to the other firefighters they passed, Naomi promising she'd catch them the next time they headed to the pub. When they were safely in the Nissan, Emily asked, "So... you change with all the guys, huh?"

"Yeah. There's a sheet between us, though. The guys are gentlemen, despite the façade Freddie and Cook put on."

"I'll take your word for it," Emily smiled. "So, any thoughts on where you're taking me?"

"Somewhere away," Naomi said.

"Good," Emily nodded and settled into her seat. "Away is good."

_**x-0-x** _

While Emily changed clothes, Naomi sat on her couch and thumbed through the books on the coffee table. A paperback novel called Avalanche, a hardback Stephen King alongside a thick novel by Amy Tan and a leather-bound copy of Oliver Twist. Eclectic taste, Naomi thought. Sort of like the kind of woman who reads classic literature and dates a firefighter. She looked around the apartment, bathed in the sun thanks to the skylight. It was gorgeous, impeccably clean... the sort of place people like Naomi Campbell only saw during a fire.

The bedroom door opened and, a few seconds later, Emily appeared. She was wearing a green jumper that hugged her torso, her hair down and her legs hidden by tight fitting jeans. "What do you think?"

"It doesn't show enough leg," Naomi said. "Otherwise, it's perfect."

Emily grinned and said, "Well, then. Shall we go?"

"We shall," Naomi said.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi got into the Nissan and revealed she was just going to drive until something pointed her in the right direction. Emily agreed that it sounded like a nice adventure and off they went. Billy Joel serenaded them until Naomi had to change the CD, telling Emily to pick anything that struck her fancy. "If you like Billy Joel," she reasoned, "nothing in my collection should horrify you too badly."

They finally settled on a Leonard Cohen compilation. "Any preferences?" Naomi asked with her finger over the 'track advance' button.

"I like all of his songs."

Naomi nodded and skipped ahead to "Hallelujah." She conceded there were versions of the song that were on par with the original, but no one could beat his version of the chorus. Emily agreed, humming along and idly watching the scenery whip past the window.

After an hour of driving, the sun was getting low in the sky. Emily suggested finding a campground nearby, getting some take-out and just having a picnic under the stars. Naomi agreed and had started searching for a suitable spot to pull off when she saw something just off the road that make her laugh.

"What is it?" Emily asked.

Naomi pointed at the wooden sign by the side of the road as they sped by.

Emily leaned forward and smiled when she read the announcement. "Oh, this is too perfect," she said. "A winter fair. There's an honest-to-God winter fair about a mile up the road." She smiled. "I haven't been to one in ages!"

"In that case," Naomi said. She reached over the console to take Emily's hand, "I think we've found out where we're going for our... um... second date?"

"I think this would be the... fourth."

"We'll well on our way to a real relationship."

Emily smiled.

_**x-0-x** _

According to the flyers, the stands along Crosby beach and promenade were set to close at nine. The fair was set up on the promenade, just off the beach. The metal fence between the prom and the sand had been lined with Christmas lights, making the entire area look like the world's most cluttered landing strip. Naomi and Emily wandered hand-in-hand through the displays, the stall holders offering them 'end-of-the-night' specials and promising they wouldn't leave without a 'stuffed bear as big as their heads.'

Naomi declined all of the games of chance, telling Emily she was saving all her money for snacks. About halfway down the midway, Naomi gasped and said, "This is what I was saving my cash for. Feel like a pancake?"

"I... I haven't had them for years."

Naomi gasped and said, "Okay, we're getting you one. You obviously led a very sheltered life not eating them enough and, as your girlfriend, I'm obliged to make amends." They stood in line and Naomi ordered two plates. She turned to Emily and presented a paper plate covered by pancake with whipped cream and chocolate sauce. The entire thing was a mass of sugar.

They walked together off the prom and found a nicely secluded spot on the sand to sit and enjoy their snack. As Naomi settled the plate on her thighs, Emily said, "You called me your girlfriend."

"Did I?" Naomi asked. She honestly hadn't noticed when she had said it, but she wasn't surprised it had slipped out.

Emily nodded and said, "Am I?"

Naomi leaned in and kissed Emily's lips gently. "Yes. Now... prepare yourself for a treat! I reintroduce to you... pancakes." She tore part of the pancake heaped in cream and sauce off and held it between two pinched fingers. "Open wide."

Emily did as requested and Naomi rested the treat on her outstretched tongue. She chewed it carefully, swallowed and took a swig of her drink. "Well?" Naomi asked.

Instead of answering, Emily moved onto her knees and leaned forward. She cupped Naomi's cheeks and leaned in to kiss her. Naomi picked up the plate and moved it to one side. Emily settled on Naomi's lap and ran her fingers through Naomi's short hair. After a few seconds, hoots and whistles began to rise from their impromptu audience, both women parted blushing.

Very aware of the audience they now had, Naomi picked up the plate and guided Emily back to the promenade. "I haven't had this much fun at a fair since I was a kid," Naomi laughed. "And I haven't been kissed at a fair since I was sixteen."

"So that kiss wasn't fun?"

"The kiss was okay," Naomi said waggling her eyebrows. "But what happened after the fair was even more fun."

Emily laughed and pressed against Naomi's side. As they headed down the promenade, Naomi spotted a stand selling balloons. It was about to close for the night, so Naomi hurried over. "One green balloon?" she asked.

The man peeled a green one away and said, "On the house. My last customer of the night."

She took it and stuffed a £5 note into the tip jar he still had set up. "My last purchase of the evening."

He laughed and tipped his hat to her - he actually tipped his hat; she could barely contain her laughter - and went back to Emily. She stood close, reaching around and gathering the red hair in one hand while holding the balloon with the other. "What are you-" Emily asked, trying to look above her head.

"Shh," Naomi admonished as she tied Emily's hair into a ponytail using the string, using her height to her advantage and bending down to pepper light kisses along the red heads exposed elegant neck and jaw.

Emily pressed her face against Naomi's sweater and smiled as she hummed with contentment at Naomi's playful and goofy behaviour. Wrapping both arms around the tall blondes waist as they stood in happy contentment she asked, "What if I float away?"

"I'll just have to hold onto you extra-tight," Naomi whispered into the top of Emily's head.

"Okay," Emily breathed.

They held each other for a few moments before the flow of the crowd forced them to move on. The street lights remained on, but one by one the fair's lights turned dark. Booths stood empty, abandoned for the night with curtains pulled down over their fronts. Signs proclaimed bargains that were no longer available and knick-knacks that were no longer on the market.

When they got back to the Nissan, Emily ducked her head and used her hand to guide the balloon into the car so she wouldn't accidentally pop it or get it caught in the door. They sat in the darkness for a while, watching as sweepers moved out and started to clean up after the day. "Erasing the day," Emily said softly.

"Yeah," Naomi said.

Emily looked over at Naomi in the darkness of the car. "What was the name of the fireman who saved you when you were a kid?"

"Michael Graham," Naomi said without hesitation.

"Do you feel fate is still trying to get you?"

"Mm-hmm."

Emily reached over and took Naomi's hand. "Then do you mind if I hold on real tight, too?"

Naomi smiled. "I think it would make all the difference."

_**x-0-x** _

Emily's apartment building seemed almost closed for the night. From the outside, a few windows were alight, but the lobby issued forth only a dim glow. Emily opened her eyes long enough to key in her code at the front door, getting them past the intercom system. Naomi escorted Emily up to her apartment, practically carrying the exhausted doctor into the elevator. During the trip home, Emily had grown progressively quieter and her head had dipped towards her chest a few times. Now, she was just barely conscious, her eyes shut, her weight resting against Naomi like a drunk being escorted from a bar.

At Emily's door, Naomi smiled and kissed her cheek. "Hey," she whispered. "You're home. I need your key to get in."

Emily's eyelids fluttered and she glanced towards the door, groaning and standing up. "Right." She fumbled around in her pockets for a moment, finally producing a key and opening the door. As she stumbled inside, she stepped out of her shoes and flipped on a light switch. Three lamps in the living room immediately came on. "Do you want something to drink?" she asked, heading into the kitchen. "I have wine, coffee... some orange juice."

"I should probably get going... it's kind of late."

"Are you sure?" Emily s eyes were tired but focused intently on Naomi.

They looked at each other for a moment and then Naomi reluctantly nodded, breaking the tension. "Yeah. Probably should."

"Well... okay..."

Naomi kicked herself. Emily sounded so damn rejected. She walked into the kitchen. "I had a really great time today. I... never would have imagined it waking up this morning, but... you really made today good." She tucked a strand of hair behind Emily's ear, smiling as she played with the balloon ribbon, before caressing the soft skin of her girlfriends neck. "You look good with your hair up."

Emily pressed her forehead against Naomi's shoulder and whispered, "I really wish you'd stay."

"I know," Naomi half-breathed, half-sighed.

"So stay. I won't regret it in the morning."

"I-I don't think we should."

"Are you scared of me?"

Naomi closed her eyes and kissed Emily's temple. "Yeah."

"I'm just a woman," Emily said. "I want to hold you. I want to be with you." She kissed Naomi's neck just below her ear and felt the taller woman tremble. "But I'll wait for you."

Naomi stepped back and kissed Emily's lips, moving her hand from the small of Emily's back to the curve of her backside, cupping it through her trousers. Emily's lips parted and the kiss deepened, Naomi moaning helplessly as her tongue moved into the warmth of the other woman's mouth. Speaking against the kiss, Naomi said, "I should go."

"Then go soon," Emily begged.

Naomi broke the kiss and touched Emily's hair again, taking a moment to release the balloon string. She handed the balloon to Emily and said, "Good night."

"I want to cook for you like I promised."

Naomi smiled "I'm off tomorrow night?"

Emily nodded. "Good night, Naomi."

Naomi wanted to go back to her, kiss her again just for good measure. But she resisted. She held herself back, knowing she wouldn't be able to stop. She opened the door and stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind herself before she did something she would regret.

Alone in the apartment, Emily smiled and whispered, "Suddenly, the night has grown colder." She snickered and tied the balloon string around the back of a chair. She ran her finger down its length, making the head rise and fall like a fishing bob. Sighing, her body electrified from the parting kiss, she headed down the hall to take a long soak in a bubble bath.

_**x-0-x** _

They hadn't spotted her after the funeral, nor had there been any sign they realized they were being tailed during their insanely long road trip. She couldn't decide if they had a specific destination in mind or if they were just driving aimlessly around. When they stopped at the fair, she climbed out and wandered the same area a few paces behind them, always close but almost never within earshot and always losing herself in the crowd if they looked around. They bought a snack and sat on the sand, feeding each other.

She turned away during their putrid display of affection, nauseated, waiting until she saw them move apart from the corner of her eye.

Tracking them back to Liverpool wasn't hard; by that time, they were practically the only other car on the road. They stopped inside an expensive looking apartment complex and Campbell practically carried the redhead inside one building. She groaned, expecting to not see them again until morning. The neighbourhood was quiet, the cars on the street speaking to the level of money secured behind these walls. It was top class, which meant security systems so she had to watch from outside the gates.

She waited a few minutes, watching the face of the building until she spotted a window light up on the top floor. She planned to stay until the light went out and head home. Or at least somewhere she could stop thinking about what they were doing.

To her surprise, Campbell came out of the building alone a few minutes later. She waited until she exited the high security gates and trailed her at a safe distance until she parked in front of an old building in a rougher part of town. She parked in an alley and sat in silence, paying attention to the door Campbell entered.

A few minutes later, a light came on in the corner window pinpointing her location. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel until the light went out again. She gave her some time, just in case she planned on leaving again, but after half an hour she slipped out of her car. This neighbourhood wouldn't bat an eye at the sight of someone getting into a car they didn't have the keys to.

She hurried across the street and worked the lock. She'd picked up the skill at a 'camp' that was supposed to have repressed her criminal activities. Even before her teens, she'd been a holy terror, an utter nightmare. She snickered at the thought, knowing that the 'camp' had been the origin of her more horrendous acts. It was there she learned how to set a good fire, there that she had learned how easy it was to pick someone's pocket and pick locks.

The lock was pathetic. She was in the car before anyone happened by and spotted her. She went through the glove compartment, looked at her CDs - she resisted the urge to break the Billy Joel disc in half - and searched for something good. The bad part about the neighbourhood was that Campbell was smart enough not to leave anything expensive in the car overnight.

Then, she found it, tucked between the side of the seat and the hand break. A mobile phone. It must have fallen out of her pocket. Dumb bitch.

She picked it up and flipped open the front. She hadn't even put a lock code on it. She snickered at how stupid the firewoman was. The screen saver was a fire department symbol. She fiddled with the keys until she found the phone book. A smile spread across her face as she read the names and numbers of people near and dear to Naomi Campbell's heart. She closed the phone book and went to 'recently received calls.'

"Fitch, Emily" was at the top of the list. She closed the phone and tucked it into her coat pocket as she got out of the car. A kid in low-riding jeans hoodie and a beanie sidled by on the pavement, eyeing the jeep. They locked eyes and she slammed the door. "Keep walking, kid. Fuck off."

The boy held up his hands in acquiescence and kept walking.

She patted the side of the jeep before returning to her own car. The kid had his pick of people to rip off; Campbell was her designated victim. Hers alone.


	11. Let This Be the One Bad Thing That Happens Today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for an abusive relationship in this chapter.

Naomi woke the next morning unsure of what time she'd finally fallen asleep. She had mentally kicked herself the entire way home and as she stared at the ceiling, trying to grasp the reasons that had been so clear back at Emily's apartment. Being noble and thinking it was too soon, yeah, fucking stupid. Grumbling, she kicked aside her blankets and slipped out of bed, automatically reaching for her mobile phone. When she realized the corner of the dresser was bare, she bent down and searched the pockets of her jeans. Nothing. She sighed and dropped the pants. She'd track her phone down later.

In the shower, she shampooed her hair and, fearing the wrath of Lyndsey, added in the conditioner she'd bought the day before. She was about to step out of the shower and, at the last minute, decided to shave her legs. The date with Emily was at the back of her mind; she'd had reasons for leaving the night before, but damned if she could remember them in the light of a new day. If the opportunity arose tonight, she didn't want her legs to be the deciding factor.

Once she was out of the shower and dressed, she headed downstairs and searched her front seat for the errant mobile phone. She was annoyed to find the remote for her car alarm was playing up and the car had spent the entire night unprotected. But it still sat in the same space, everything seemed in order, so she wasn't too worried.

The bad news was that the mobile phone was nowhere to be found, not even when she knelt on the passenger side and peered upside-down beneath the driver's seat. She sat down and stared at the floor in frustration. She reached over and fiddled with her CD's, frowning when she saw how cock-eyed they looked. "I thought Emily put these back a little neater," she muttered, straightening the cases.

With a sigh, she got out of the car and slammed the door. She set the alarm, making sure this time that the alarm chirped, and headed back upstairs. As she was unlocking her apartment door, it hit her.

The beach. The phone must've fallen out of her pocket when she and Emily were sitting on the beach with the pancakes. She kicked herself again - she was finding a lot of reasons to do that, it seemed - and headed to the house phone. She dialled her own number and leaned against the counter, chewing her bottom lip as the ring tone sounded in her ear.

After a minute with no answer, she sighed and hung up. She didn't fancy another drive all the way out to Crosby, but she couldn't exactly think of any other options. If she did, she'd have to do it soon in order to get back in time for her date. She dialled again, this time Emily's number.

"Hello?" a sleepy voice replied.

"I'm sorry, I can call back..."

"No, I'm up, I'm here," Emily said. "Naomi. Hi. I'm up."

Naomi couldn't help smiling. "Hi. How are you?"

"Sleepy," she said. "What's up?"

"I just wanted to let you know I have to head out to the beach again... I lost my mobile phone, so I want to see if I dropped it when we had our snack."

"Oh, okay."

"I just didn't want you to worry if I was incommunicado today. And I will be there for dinner. What time should I be at your place?"

"I was thinking seven. We could eat and then maybe watch a DVD, listen to some music... whatever."

The 'whatever' made the hair on Naomi's arms stand up and she smiled. "Yeah, sounds good."

"I was thinking making a Salmon Bake... is there anything you're allergic to? Lactose intolerant, vegetarian, anything I should know before heading out to buy groceries?"

"Naaaaah, definitely not a vegetarian and I don't have an issue with allergies. The salmon thing sounds wonderful."

"Okay... so I'll see you at seven."

"I'll be there."

They hung up and Naomi grabbed her backpack. She left her flat, and prayed she could track down the right part of the beach.

_**x-0-x** _

Emily hopped out of bed and checked her watch as she dressed. She couldn't believe she'd overslept, but she'd spent a long time staring at the ceiling and wondering how she could have made Naomi stay the night before. She had a few errands to run, ingredients for the salmon bake to pick up. She attempted to set the world record for showering, dressed quickly and hid her wet hair under a baseball cap.

As she was leaving her flat, her mobile phone rang. She pulled the door shut with her free hand as she answered the call. "Dr. Emily Fitch," she said, and looking at the display when there was no answer, "Who is this?"

No reply. She took the phone away from her ear and looked at the display screen again. 'Withheld.' She grimaced. "Hello?" she said again. When no one answered, she disconnected and shoved the phone into her coat pocket. She headed downstairs and had just stepped out of the building and into the car park when the phone rang again. She sighed and paused, checking the readout. 'Withheld', probably one of those irritating call centres trying to sell her rubbish. She silenced the ringer and decided to ignore it for the rest of the morning.

_**x-0-x** _

She blinked when he saw the woman outside the building pause and look down at her mobile phone. Surely it was just a coincidence... she couldn't be so lucky... She smiled as the woman stuck the still-chirping phone into her coat. She looked different than she had last night, but this must be the same woman she'd seen Campbell with. She put the stolen mobile phone down on the passenger seat and slipped out of the little side road she'd parked in as she followed the short red head's little car.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi stepped out of the bakery and planted both hands on her hips. She scanned the promenade and tried to remember where they'd gone the night before. Three businesses were open, but none of them reported anyone turning in a lost mobile phone. She spotted a clump of bushes that looked familiar and shifted the sand with the toe of one shoe. She'd borrowed a phone from someone in the bakery, so she dialled her number and searched the sand again, waiting to hear the familiar ringing coming from one of the small dunes. Nothing.

She returned the phone to the man in the bakery and reluctantly headed back to her car, casting a look over her shoulder at the sand. If the phone wasn't here, where else could it possibly have gotten lost?

_**x-0-x** _

She followed Dr. Fitch through an assortment of local little stores and restaurants, pausing outside a fish store and waiting for her to come out rather than following her in. She took a moment to see what she bought and tried to get a picture of what she was planning. So far, she'd seen her pick up a small bag of lemons, some parsley and a bag of pecans. She was stymied. The fish store probably held the secret key ingredient, but she dared not go inside while she was still there, quickly buying a cheap LFC baseball cap from a street seller.

From across the street, she tried to peer through the glass from a safe distance, the peak of the cap pulled down over her brow, the low sun wreaking havoc with her spying.

The good doctor exited a few minutes later with a large bag, the shape of the box within giving her absolutely no clues. She waited until she got ahead of her and began to track her again. The red head seemed happy, practically gliding down the pavements as she completed her chores. She stopped at a cash machine and she got into line two people behind her. She had her head ducked, pretending to go through her wallet when she turned and walked past.

After a few minutes of wandering, she struck upon a brilliant idea. She almost jogged back the way they'd come, going back to the flats she'd spent all night in front of. She found countless ways to look busy without looking like she was loitering, smiling politely to passers-by, pausing to tie her shoe or to lean against the wall and speak into the phone she'd pilfered from Naomi Campbell's car.

Finally, after only twenty minutes of waiting, opportunity struck. She had Naomi's phone pressed to his ear when she saw a couple make their way to the pedestrian gate and use a code to unlock it. This was her chance. She hesitated just long enough so that they could open the gate, before starting a little jog to make up the distance as they opened the gate.

"I don't care if that's what he said," she sighed, faking a conversation. She grasped the gate and pulled it open, giving the tenant a courteous smile. 'Just here to see a friend,' the smile said. "Yeah, I'm right outside your building now, Emily. I'll be up in a minute."

The couple walked on and round to one of the other buildings, seemingly not hearing or not caring about the conversation.

She smiled. She was a damn good improviser.

_**x-0-x** _

Emily used her code on the door security and the door buzzed to signal that it had been accepted. She pulled the door open and made a bee-line for the elevator, hoping to get the fish into the freezer before they started to thaw. She'd lost a lot of time getting that idiot Odd Bin's off licence to admit he wasn't sure of the best wine for her meal and call someone else to help. She stepped into the lift and pressed the button for her floor just as a female voice called out, "Hey! Hold the lift, please!"

She did as she asked, sticking her leg out and letting the doors bounce off her calf. The woman stepped inside the car and exhaled, leaning against the wall. "Almost didn't make it," she said with a bright smile. "Thanks for holding it."

"Ten years of squat thrusts finally pay off," she said. 'Please let the fish be all right,' she whispered in her mind, watching the numbers. "Um, which floor?"

"Um, the, uh... fourth."

Emily frowned, her suspicions raised. "I'm the only person on the fourth floor. Unless... well, the management company keeps some supplies up there."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must have my numbers mixed up." She reached over and pressed the button for the ground floor again.

Emily glanced at her, suddenly very wary. She was dressed casually, in a hoodie and jeans, but she seemed somehow uncomfortable in them. She was wearing a cheap baseball cap with a completely straight peak, meaning it was relatively new. "Who buzzed you into the building?"

"The maintenance man gave me the number. I'm helping him out a little today, you know, taking up some of the slack while I'm on holiday. He's my uncle."

She nodded, but wasn't particularly convinced. She made a mental note to call the management team and make sure this woman was on the up-and-up. She motioned at her shopping bags. "Had yourself a little spree, did ya?"

"I'm preparing something for dinner tonight."

"Ah. Nice"

"Yeah," the red head said. The lift doors opened and she stepped out, making sure not to turn away from the woman for too long. "Is there anything you need on this floor?"

"No, I should go find my uncle about what he wanted me to do. It was nice to meet you."

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. You, too..."

The lift doors closed and she headed for the stairs, leaning over the railing until she could see the sliver of the lobby below. Listening intently, she heard the ding of the lift followed by footsteps on the tile floor. Her heart pounded as she waited to hear her on the steps, coming up to catch her unaware. Instead, she heard the front door of the building open and close again.

She stepped back. Whoever the woman was, she must have scared her off, if she wasn't helping her uncle out that is. The petite doctor shook her head, if it had been a man she may have been more suspicious. Still, it never hurt to be cautious.

Putting the bizarre incident out of her head, she unlocked her apartment door and repeated her internal mantra: 'Please don't let the salmon be squashed and unusable.'

_**x-0-x** _

She kicked herself for giving in to impulse. She never should have gotten into the lift with her. But all's well that ends well, she supposed. The red headed bitch had been suspicious from the very beginning, but she felt that she wasn't overly concerned about her. She'd probably already put her from her mind. She wondered if she would mention the incident to Naomi over dinner. It was unlikely, unless her life was so without drama that such a bizarre interlude was all she had to talk about.

She walked back to her car, slipping out of the gates behind a different couple to earlier and sat behind the wheel looking at the mobile phone. She considered calling again, another hang-up, but decided against it. Couldn't have her putting two-and-two together with the crank calls and the weird woman in the elevator.

Putting the phone in the glove box, she sank down in his seat and prepared for another long stake-out.

_**x-0-x** _

Emily washed her hands, as the water on the hob slowly came to a boil. She wiped her hands off on a dish-towel and went back to them, eyeing the recipe she had propped against the seasoning bowls. "Okay... mix this and that and set aside. Mix these and..." She slowly lost herself in cooking for the evening. She put the mustard, honey and butter into a mixing bowl, nestling the phone between her ear and shoulder as she mixed it.

That done, she skipped to the next step. She quartered the baby potatoes and dumped them into one pot of boiling water. The green beans went into the next pot. With the side items going, she turned her attention to the main course and started by seasoning the raw salmon fillets. She didn't know how spicy Naomi liked her food, so she kept it at a happy medium. She used a basting brush to apply the mustard/honey mixture and glanced at the clock. "Right on time," she smiled. "I'm on a roll," she whispered as she mixed the pecans with bread crumbs. She added a small amount of parsley and smiled at the way it all looked on the fish. "Marvellous." She smiled to herself.

She withdrew the small ruler her mother had ordered her to always keep on hand and stuck it into the thickest portion of the thickest fillet, mumbling to herself. "Inch and a half thick... ten minutes per inch... fifteen minutes."

She set the tray into the oven and said, "Have a nice rest, fellas." She reached for the dial that turned on the heat, her fingers tensing as she gripped it. She took a shaky breath and whispered, "Stop it." As if she'd uttered the magic words, her fingers turned the dial to the right setting.

With nothing left to do, she checked her watch. The food was cooking, the table was set and the waiting game had begun. She nestled the bottle of wine in a bucket of ice as she tugged off her apron and headed down the hall for a proper shower.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi was home in time to change, put on the bare minimum of make-up and checking her messages. No one had called to tell her they'd found her missing phone. She sighed and dialled the number once more, hoping for a miracle. Still nothing. Okay... so it was official. Her mobile phone was missing. Not great, but not the most terrible thing in the world.

"Please," she whispered as she headed back out. "Let this be the one bad thing that happens today..."

_**x-0-x** _

Hair blow-dried, make-up applied, dress half-on, Emily returned to the kitchen and bent down to check the progress of her meal through the glass front of the oven. Everything looked good and the kitchen had a wonderful smell building in it. Shrugging into the shoulder straps of her dress, she zipped herself up using a hanger and straightened the bodice. Perfect.

She sliced two lemons and lay them on the edges of her finest china plates. They were just regular, black china - no one to pick a pattern with, sadly - but they were the nicest dishes she owned. She found her wine glasses, holding them up to the light and wiping away any watermarks she could see. She put those down on either side of the table and went to the kitchen to dig through her groceries. She found two decent-sized pieces of parsley to accent the plate with and placed them next to the lemon-halves.

Her oven timer dinged and she removed the fish from the oven. They smelled divine, but she used a fork to flick the corner of one to make sure it was flaky enough. "Perfect," she smiled.

She turned off the oven, looking all the way down the row of dials that lined the front of the stove top. She fiddled with them, turning them all a half-turn to the right before turning them off again. They were all off, the little red light was dark, the oven was off. She bent down and peered through the glass; making sure the red-hot coils were fading back to black.

Finally convinced the stove was actually off, she carefully transferred the fillets to the plates. She took special care arranging them just so, and then added the potatoes and green beans to complete the picture, popping them back into the still warm oven. Her stomach growled its approval and she smiled, looking at the clock. Seven minutes until seven. Her intercom system sounded. Could she time it or could she time it?

After buzzing Naomi in through the main gate and then into the building, she removed the bucket from beneath her sink and filled it with ice. The bottle of wine - pinot noir - was placed in the bucket and wouldn't be opened until dinner. She realized she was breathing hard, anxious about her date with Naomi. All she could think about was what Naomi thought of this meal.

_**x-0-x** _

She watched Naomi pace outside the building, going into the alcove a few times but retreating before she made her move. The third aborted attempt made her groan in frustration. She wanted to pound on her horn and yell at her to just get it over with, but she didn't want her to know she was being watched. Finally, after an excruciating wait, she pressed the intercom button and went inside.

"About time," she muttered, sliding down in her seat and watching the highest window.

_**x-0-x** _

"I'm sorry if I'm early," Naomi said. She looked down at Emily's dress. "Woah. You look beautiful."

"You're right on time, actually," Emily said. She ignored the compliment and tried not to blush at the scrutiny she was under from those bright blue eyes. Naomi had worn a buttoned-down shirt and black jeans, going with what had worked for her on the first date, but Emily was in a low-cut black velvet dress that ended just above her knees. Her hair was up but loose, a few strands curtaining her face.

Naomi broke off her examination long enough to hold up the meagre assortment of flowers. "I-I didn't know if I was supposed to bring anything... this was all they had down at the shop on the corner."

"They're lovely," Emily said. She took them and bent to sniff one petal. "I'll just go find a vase, okay? Would you like something to drink?"

"Yes, please. Whatever you have is fine." While Emily was in the kitchen, Naomi took the opportunity to wander the apartment. She edged towards the dining room table, and admired the beautiful setting; two candles, two water glasses. All it was missing were the flowers, which she had actually remembered to bring. Hiding a triumphant smile at the thought of doing something right, she said, "It smells amazing in here."

"Mum was a chef," Emily said as she returned from the kitchen with the flowers in a bell-shaped vase. In her other hand, she held two glasses of wine by the stems. "Would you..." Naomi took the glasses and Emily placed the flowers between the candles. "She taught me how to make a delicious feast in under an hour. It's a helpful trick when you spend half the day before a big date in bed."

Naomi laughed and said, "Well, I'm sure it will be marvellous. You look marvellous. Did I say that?"

"You did," Emily laughed. "You can say it again, too, but three is your limit."

"Well, then," Naomi said, "I'll save the last one for later."

Emily blushed slightly and pulled one of the chairs out. "Have a seat. I'll go get our dinner." She got halfway into the kitchen before she said, "Oh, do you mind lighting the candles? There's a lighter right on the edge of the table."

"Sure," Naomi said. The lighter had a long neck with a trigger below. There was a child-safety roller that Naomi had to push with her thumb before she could activate the flame. It took her two tries before she realized that the trigger was locked in place. She released that and lit both flames as Emily returned. "Have a lot of kids around?" she asked, waving the wand jokingly.

Emily tensed slightly. "Don't play with that."

"Okay," Naomi said. She put the lighter down on the table. "Sorry."

Emily smiled self-consciously and put the plates down. "No, I'm sorry. I'm Ms. Worry-Wart about stuff like lighters and leaving the oven on and all that."

"Ah, a fire-fighter's dream woman."

Emily grinned and said, "Have a seat."

Naomi sat as instructed and allowed Emily to push her seat in. When she was settled, Emily bent down and nuzzled the back of her neck. She whispered, "I'm really glad you came tonight."

Naomi shuddered in response.

Emily stroked her arms once before retreating back to the other side of the table. "Dinner is served," she said, placing one in front of Naomi and one in front of her seat. She vanished again and returned with a bottle of wine in an ice bucket. "And here is the wine, in case you need a refill."

"Wow," Naomi said. "I thought we weren't going to a restaurant tonight..."

Emily smiled self-consciously and said, "Well, I couldn't exactly defrost a couple of microwave dinners and plop them down in front of you, right?"

"A bag of fish and chips would still be wonderful as long as I ate it with you."

Emily ducked her head to hide her blush. "You keep making me blush," she said shyly.

"Should I stop?"

"Stop and I'll hurt you," Emily warned.

Naomi took the wine from the ice and popped the cork, managing to accomplish the feat without the cork flying across the room. She stood and poured a little more into each of their glasses. When she sat again, she lifted her glass and toasted, "To Jeremiah Jones."

"To Jeremiah Jones," Emily agreed. Their glasses chimed against each other and they each took a sip. "Now... let's dig in. I skipped lunch and I'm famished."

_**x-0-x** _

"So. The numb comment from the other night," Emily said without prompting.

Naomi looked over the rim of her wineglass and raised an eyebrow.

Emily dabbed her lips with a napkin and cleared her throat. She looked down at her half-cleared plate and shifted slightly in her seat. "I feel I should tell you about just so... you'll know. I had an older sister, my twin. She was only a few minutes older than me, but I just adored her. She protected me." Her eyes drifted and then snapped back to Naomi. "Anyway, when I lost her..." she let that fade off. She licked her lips and took a drink before starting again, "When I lost my sister, it was like my arms had fallen off. I was... adrift. When I was sixteen, Katie - that's my sister - had been gone for two years, but I was still adrift. So I started hanging out with women that were stronger than me. Women who could... protect me like Katie had.

"The girl I was seeing when I was eighteen, the girl I lost my virginity to, liked to prove she could protect me. She hit me... broke my little finger just to prove she could."

"Emily," Naomi whispered.

She shook her head. "It's fine. I got out before graduating university, she vanished... I got help. It was my first and last abusive relationship. I just... have a hard time trusting people."

Naomi nodded. "So... why did you trust me? I mean, not to sound ungrateful..."

Emily smiled. "I stepped out of the staff room and I saw you sitting on that bed... and they told me you needed help. Something in me..." She shrugged her tanned shoulders and looked down at her wine. "I don't know. It was like it was the last step of putting the past behind me; helping someone stronger."

Naomi shook her head. "I'm not stronger than you."

"You are," Emily said. She reached across the table and touched Naomi's hand. "I promise."

Naomi stroked the back of Emily's hand. "So... am I replacing your twin?"

"No. I've given up trying to replace her. You're someone with strong arms that I want to feel wrapped around me."

Naomi shuddered - a very good shudder, a kind she hadn't felt in quite awhile - and smiled. "Can we finish eating first?" she asked.

Emily laughed softly. "Sure, I can wait until we finish eating."

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi resisted the urge to lick her plate, settling instead for stealing a potato from Emily's plate. "That was the most delicious piece of fish I have ever tasted," she said as she leaned back in her seat. "You're a culinary goddess."

"A culinary demigoddess, maybe," Emily countered as she stood. "My mother holds the title, even though she's not cooking professionally any more. But I accept your compliment." They gathered the dishes together and carried them into the kitchen, placing the dishes in the sink for another time. Naomi put an arm around Emily as they walked into the living room, the plan being to choose a DVD for part two of their date, but halfway there Naomi stopped.

"What is it?" Emily asked.

In lieu of a response, Naomi bent down and kissed Emily's lips. She cupped her face with both hands and moaned quietly. Her fingers lightly brushed Emily's cheeks and moved the feather-soft waves of hair out of the way. Their tongues duelled, exchanging the essence of the meal they'd just shared, and Emily's body went limp. When they parted, Naomi looked down into Emily's eyes, "It's been a while since anyone looked at me the way you have tonight Em's."

Emily didn't know what to say, so she simply pressed her face against Naomi's shoulder. As they embraced, she felt the sinewy muscles of Naomi's back moving, her strong shoulders filling out the back of the shirt. "Remember what I said about wrapping your arms around me?"

Naomi flattened her palms against Emily's shoulders, holding her tight, breathing the scent of her hair. "Tight enough?" she whispered.

"I feel so safe with you," the red head whispered, the feel of Naomi's arms around her blocking out the rest of the world. Her lips moving against the crisp material of Naomi's shirt, she asked, "If I asked you to stay tonight..."

"It would save me having to ask you," Naomi interrupted. Her hands were on the bare part of Emily's back between her shoulder straps. Her fingertips were practically searing the skin.

They moved together, Emily angling Naomi back until she was against the wall. "What-" Naomi asked, but quieted when Emily shushed her. They kissed again, but only briefly before Emily began to kiss her way down Naomi's neck.

She worked the buttons of Naomi's dress shirt, parting the two halves and kissing each exposed bit of flesh before she reached the arch of the white tank top underneath.

The feel of Emily's tongue on her skin was almost too much for Naomi to take. She reached her hands out to either side, chin against her collar, watching as Emily moved lower. She kissed through the material of Naomi's bra before moving lower and nuzzling the exposed flesh of her abdomen with lips and tongue.

As her zip was tugged down, Naomi scooted her feet apart and looked across the room. She could see herself in the window, breasts pressing against her bra as she took a deep breath. She was a crucified supplicant, her fingers digging at the wall for any kind of handhold as Emily lowered her jeans and underwear down to mid-thigh.

What followed was a miracle of the lips, the teeth, the tip of the tongue and points south. Emily made quiet noises, spoke half-words, but the meaning wasn't important. The sound of her voice was, the vibrations her lips made, the thrumming of her tongue as she concentrated on what she was doing.

Naomi turned her eyes skyward and focused on the black veins of the skylight. She could see the moon, could see everything, and there in a hazy reflection, herself. Herself, pants around her knees, with a beautiful woman in a beautiful dress kneeling before her as if in worship. She arched her back and moved one hand down to gently thread Emily's perfect hair through her fingers as she came.

With kisses along her thighs and then slipping over her abdomen, Emily stood again. She kissed Naomi with meaning; wet lips sliding along dry, hands slipping around her waist. "Good?" Emily asked as she pressed her forehead against Naomi's.

"Mmmmmhrrrr," Naomi replied, eyes closed.

Emily bent down and pulled Naomi's clothes back into place, helping her fasten the jeans. They kissed again and Emily stepped away, going over to the couch. "Wha-what about you?" Naomi asked.

"We have all night," Emily smiled, patting the cushion next to her. "You should probably pace yourself."

Naomi followed her, sitting on the couch and letting Emily curl happily against her side. 'Pace myself,' she thought. 'Yeah. Definitely something I can do.' Still trembling in the elbows and knees, she kissed the top of Emily's head and wrapped her arms around her as the movie started.

_**A/N: I know a girl, a strong girl, very successful and very confident like our Em's. She had an abusive relationship like the one I've written here (It's based on her's). Just a boring grown up note. Don't stay with a person who hits you, you are worth so much more.** _


	12. Did You F-in' See What Just F-in' Happened?

"You're missing the movie," Emily said. She smiled and let her eyes drift shut as well. Her hands were under the hem of Naomi's shirt, her body pinned on the couch beneath the other woman.

"So are you," Naomi said as she nipped the point of Emily's chin.

"I've seen it before."

They kissed. Naomi pushed her hand between Emily's back and the couch cushion. "Is it really, really good?"

"Mm..."

Naomi rephrased her question: "Is it better than this?"

Emily arched into Naomi, moaned loudly and bit her bottom lip. "Oh, it's only okay..." She reached for the remote to silence the movie. Her fingers went limp and the remote fell to the carpet with a thud. Naomi started to slip her hand beneath Emily's dress, but the other woman squirmed and pulled her hand free. "Not down the back," she breathed. She put Naomi's hand on her thigh and looked up at her with gleaming eyes. "There," she said, spreading her legs.

As Naomi's hand moved north, Emily tugged the hem of her dress up so the material wouldn't tear. She whimpered as Naomi's fingertips stroked her through her underwear. She brought her left leg up and hooked it on Naomi's hip. "Is this payback... for what I did to you... against the wall?" Emily breathed, the words puffing around Naomi's face.

"This," Naomi said, moving her hand slightly, "is part one of payback."

"What's part two?"

Naomi moved her hand again.

Emily cried out in pleasure.

_**x-0-x** _

They moved to the bedroom, Emily taking the lead and sitting Naomi on the edge of the bed. Naomi stared raptly as Emily slowly undressed, documented every article of clothing as it was removed and carefully laid to the side. Naomi shed her own shirt and underclothes, feeling silly in her jeans and bra as Emily walked nude over to the bed. "I hate being the only one naked," she said, drawing her hand down Naomi's bare stomach.

Naomi took the hint and reached behind her back, finding the catch of her bra and releasing it.

"The-ere's a good girl," Emily cooed. She bent down and kissed Naomi's lips hungrily.

As they kissed, Emily raised one knee onto the bed, straddling Naomi's waist and sitting on her lap. Naomi moved her hands along the outside of Emily's thighs, holding her up as Emily scooted closer and intensified their kiss. Naomi moved her hands to tenderly cup Emily's backside. "No higher," Emily said against Naomi's mouth.

"Huh?"

"Keep your hands where they are," she breathed.

Naomi kissed her again and squeezed gently to let her know she didn't plan to stray. Emily, showing her gratitude, reached down and moved her hand between Naomi's thighs.

_**x-0-x** _

Almost an hour later, both nude and tangled in the sheets, Naomi made a mistake.

She was sitting in the centre of the bed, Emily comfortably facing her, sitting on her lap kissing the tall blondes neck. She had her hands on Emily's hips and casually slipped them to the small of her back to pull the other woman even closer. Emily tensed in her arms and hissed, "Stop," but it was a second too late. Naomi frowned as her fingers passed over the rough and scarred flesh, leaning forward to peer over her lover's shoulder.

Emily pressed her face against Naomi's neck, warm tears flowing from her cheeks onto Naomi's shoulder. She sobbed, "I was going to tell you."

Naomi flattened her palm against the burn, horrified to see that it spread beyond the span of her fingers. It ran from just below her shoulder blades, fanning out in a triangle, until it faded just above the cheeks of her rear.

"Emily," Naomi breathed quietly.

"Can you not ask?" Emily whispered. "Please, Naomi. Just... make love to me right now. Please?"

"Okay," Naomi breathed. She moved her hand to Emily's shoulder. Her other hand went travelling as well, cupping a sensitive area. Emily calmed and kissed Naomi's shoulder.

_**x-0-x** _

Emily curled next to Naomi, her hair a red sunburst on the pillow behind her. Naomi watched her sleep, the innocent way her lips parted to murmur at dream companions. She couldn't get her mind past the scar tissue; the way it had felt, the way Emily's demeanour had changed as soon as it was touched... She eased her way out of Emily's grasp and of bed, taking care not to jostle the mattress, and found her underwear on the ground.

She put them on, settling on her blouse for her top half. Semi-dressed, she sat in the chair across the room and looked at Emily's sleeping form on the bed. It was just past three in the morning, the street light and the moon had melted across the window pane and was washing the room in a muted yellow-blue aura through the blinds. From the armchair, she could see Emily's profile glow in the combination of lights.

'Who hurt you?' she wondered, the feel of that burn imprinted on her fingers. 'Who hurt you and how can I hurt him?'

After a few minutes, Emily stirred beneath the sheet and stretched an arm across the now-vacant side of the mattress. Her hand hesitated for a moment and, when she realized she should meet resistance, her head came up off the pillow. "Naomi?"

The abandonment in her voice broke Naomi's heart. "I'm here Em's," she said softly.

When Emily sat up, the sheet fell away to expose one bare breast. "I... I thought you left."

"I'd never do that. I couldn't sleep and I didn't want to disturb you."

"Come back," Emily breathed, lifting one hand and holding it out in an imploring gesture.

Naomi, unable to resist, stood and undressed before climbing back under the blankets. When they embraced, she felt the scar tissue under her hand again, gently running her hand over the area. Emily winced, but not as much as she had the first time. "Now you can ask," she said, her face against Naomi's shoulder.

"No, not if you don't..."

"It's okay. I can talk about it, but not during... I can talk about it now."

Naomi kissed Emily's temple and, although she was already sure of the answer, asked, "It's a burn"

"Yes." She took a shuddering breath. "I was nearly fourteen. My sister pushed and dragged me and shoved me into a built in wardrobe and I was mad at her. Our parents and brother were out and I thought she was just being a mean bitch. I thought she wanted to be alone with her boyfriend, but he wasn't there. She ducked over me, covered me with her arms and... she..."

Naomi felt warm tears on her chest and stroked Emily's back.

"The house was on fire, she'd been making pancakes" she said, her voice barely a whisper. Her breath was captured between her mouth and Naomi's breast. "She was on top of me, crying. Dad had fitted anti-burglar security bars on the windows, so we couldn't get out."

Naomi closed her eyes. She knew those damn bars; mildly efficient keeping burglars out, wonderfully efficient at keeping firefighters out. Freddie called them "fuck-me bars."

"I don't know how much time went by. It was... s-so loud. I dream about it sometimes, but I don't know how much is real and how much I've just made up to fill the holes. I remember being curled up with my face in the corner. I remember Katie crying and screaming. I don't really remember the pain. I barely remember the hospital, but only because you don't forget a hell like that. It's funny... I was permanently scarred by the fire, but all I remember was being hurt afterwards in the hospital. When I woke up, my sister was dead and my back was..." She swallowed hard and released an arm from the blondes embrace to wave over her shoulder indicating the burn before replacing the arm back in Naomi's grip. "My sister took the brunt of the flames. It... some of it got past, burned my back. The main thing I remember is Katie's voice in my ear saying, 'don't be afraid, Emily, I have you, it's not going to get you.' Over and over again." she touched the necklace around her neck "this was hers, it's the only thing I have left of her."

After a long moment, she continued. "Since then, I've been terrified of fire. The cooker, sure, to cook... I can just about handle that kind of heat. But... matches. And cigarettes. It's why I got so bent out of shape about you playing with that stupid lighter. Why I asked you to light the candles in the first place. If I even hold a match I start shaking like a leaf. So when I saw you in the emergency room, I just thought... I thought, 'This woman ran into a fire. This woman faced a fire and won. I have to meet her.' You made my knees weak."

"Can I ask you... the first time I put my hand there, you tensed up. But afterwards, you told me you liked it. Is it okay that I keep touching it?"

"It's numb most of the time," Emily said. "It doesn't hurt or anything. But when you have your hand there, it's like you're... protecting it. Protecting my vulnerable spot. That's why I like having your hand there. It's... intimate."

Naomi held Emily tighter and fanned all ten fingers over the small of her back, gently caressing the area. Emily nuzzled into Naomi's shoulder and said, "Are you going to stay until morning?"

Her face in a mask of Emily's sleep- and sex-mused hair, Naomi said, "At least."

_**x-0-x** _

She jerked awake, checked her watch and looked into the car park. The jeep was still there. She supposed this was the night. She sighed and sat up, rubbing her eyes. No point in sticking it out here if they were just going to stay holed up for who-knew-how long. Campbell would be on duty later in the day. It would be the perfect time to spring her new trap.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi took the first shower and Emily hopped in immediately after, managing to restrain herself from joining the blonde. Dressed in the same clothes as the night before, Naomi ate a bowl of Coco Pops in Emily's kitchen. When Emily emerged from the bathroom in a terrycloth robe, they kissed and Naomi poured a bowl of cereal for her. "Milk?" she asked.

"Yes, please," Emily said.

She got the carton she'd found in the fridge and brought it back to the table while Emily poured a cup of coffee. Naomi poured her a bowl of cereal and presented it with a flourish, smirking. "It's not exactly Alaska salmon bake and stuff, but I think it'll do for breakfast." She kissed Emily's temple and brushed a stray hair out of her face. "Happy anniversary, by the way," she said.

"What?" Emily frowned. "Anniversary?"

"One week ago or so today. That was when we met in the emergency room."

"A week?" Emily said, thinking back. "My God. Well, happy anniversary! Did you like the present I gave you last night?"

"Mm-hmm," Naomi said. "In fact, I think I'm going to play with it again the next chance I get."

Emily blushed and sipped her coffee. "Do you have to go?" Emily asked.

"Afraid so... duty at noon and I want to get some jogging in."

"Was last night not enough of a workout for you, dear?"

Naomi smiled. "That was a different kind of exercise, I think. A lot of different muscles involved, at least."

Emily swallowed her mouthful and said, "Are we going out again soon?"

"The sooner the better," Naomi said. She covered Emily's hand with her own. "I'll have to check my schedule, though, compare it with yours."

"Yeah," Emily nodded. "Two people with crazy schedules and shifts... we're due for a long period of frustrating conflictions."

Naomi looked at the time and stood, "I should go." She leaned down and kissed Emily, tasting Coco Pops on her breath. "And you really should know better, being a doctor and all... I expected to find bran or muesli or something."

"I have a sophisticated and eclectic palate. And I'll have you know I do have some muesli," Emily countered. "Be safe today, okay?"

"Always," Naomi said. "But now that I have a reason..." They kissed again and Naomi stepped away, heading for the door. "Bye. I, err, I could fall in love with you pretty damned easily you know."

Emily stopped the spoon halfway to her mouth and turned in her seat. Naomi was smiling at her from the door and nodded. "Yeah, I meant it." She waved again and stepped out into the hallway.

Alone in her apartment, Emily looked down at her bowl of soggy cereal and smiled. She rested her chin on her hand and laughed, those three words echoing in her head: "I meant it."

_**x-0-x** _

Freddie grabbed Naomi's shoulders from behind and started knocking her back and forth. "Ready? Huh? Ready?" Then he gripped her shoulders and squeezed, giving her the roughest massage she'd ever had.

"You're gonna kill me, Freddie," she said.

They were standing outside yet another flaming warehouse, several different streams of water criss-crossing the face of the building. They'd just arrived and were waiting for word the fire was being held back before heading to the roof to cut ventilation. Tomone approached, tugging his ear. "Freddie! Let's go, we've got the all-clear! Get up on that roof!"

"All right, all right, it's about time! C'mon, Naoms," Freddie said, moving to the ladder.

"No, take Effy," Tomone countered. "Campbell, you're with me. Help me get these fans set up."

"Chief..." Naomi started to complain.

"Effy has the saw, she's ready to go," Tomone said. "Plus, she needs the experience. Let's go!"

She followed him as Effy climbed onto the truck with Freddie. Tomone hoisted the big fan and she was right behind him, unwrapping the cord from another fan as they got it off the truck. They carried the fan to the front of the building and set it on the front steps, stepping back to watch Freddie and Effy scamper up the ladder.

Freddie leapt onto the ledge with the grace of a dancer, Effy following right behind him as if choreographed. Tomone grabbed his radio. "We're ready down here whenever you give us the call, Freddie!"

"Things are a bit shaky up here, boss..."

"Effy is new," Tomone said. "Give her a..."

"No, it's... Goddamn, I'm like a... holy shit, Tommo!"

There was a crash, a collapsing sound echoing from inside the building as the fire roared towards the sky with renewed life. Tomone automatically slammed himself into Naomi, his momentum carrying her away from the building in case of collapse. They both looked over his shoulder at the carnage, the flames licking the sky. Only one explanation for its renewed vigour; it had found a new and plentiful source of oxygen. "The roof collapsed," Naomi said, unable to believe what she was seeing.

"Not again," Tomone breathed, agony in his voice. "Not another fucking one."

"God, Tommo. Freddie!" Naomi exhaled.

Static burst onto their radios, followed by a very loud and very heartfelt, "Fuck me sideways!"

"Freddie?" Tomone said into his mike. "Freddie, copy; are you there?"

"Boss! Oh, fuck, Tomone, fuck me blind, hold on."

Tomone looked at Naomi, eyes wide. After a few minutes of silence, Tomone was going for his radio to call again when the door of the building was kicked open. A firefighter, uniform charred black, burst out. Judging from size alone, there was no doubt that it was Freddie. He had another, smaller firefighter held against his side as he stumbled into the cool evening air. He made it only a few steps before falling on his face.

Naomi and Tomone rushed over and dragged the two away from the collapse zone, calling for paramedics at the top of their lungs. Freddie thrust his head forward and his helmet hit the ground with a solid 'thud.' He yanked off his air mask and looked up at Tomone with wide, half-crazed eyes. "Did you see? Did you f-in' see what just f-in' happened?"

"Did you fall through a roof?" Naomi asked. She knew how stupid the question was but was unable to keep from blurting it out.

"Chief never told me not to," Freddie said. He turned and said, "Is Effy okay?"

Naomi moved to Effy, who was being tended to by a paramedic. "Effy, you okay?" she asked, grasping the other woman's hand.

"Freddie saved my life," she said, coughing between every other word. Blood was streaming from her dark mop of hair, her steely blue eyes moving back and forth without focusing on anything. "Freddie saved me," she repeated. "He fucking saved me."

"Yeah, he did," Naomi said, clasping her shoulder and drawing the woman in for a reassuring hug.

She stood and walked over to Thomas who was standing by the ladder truck. Tomone looked at her and said, "So, Freddie tells me the roof is ventilated now."

Naomi laughed softly at the dry humour. "Guess we can turn on the fans." They headed for the front door, picking up the fan Freddie had knocked over during his hasty retreat. As they turned on the monstrously noisy contraption, she glanced over at him and asked, "Are you okay, boss?"

"Thought I lost both of them," he said softly. He ran his thumb across his bottom lip, shook his head and walked away. Naomi watched him go, looked down at the fan and then headed over to Freddie.

_**x-0-x** _

Both of them?

Both of them? How was that fair? That wasn't fucking fair!

She smacked her fist against her thigh and allowed herself a mini-tantrum inside the safety of her car. Damn. She had put so much thought into that. It was supposed to have been perfect. She exhaled slowly and let the rage slowly seep away until she was calm again. She threw the binoculars into the passenger seat and started the car.

She'd have another chance. She would just have to be patient.

With any luck, her next trap would get the entire damn watch.

Appalled, she pulled away from the curb with her headlights off to avoid anyone noticing her. As she merged with the flow of traffic on the main road, an idea came to her. Perhaps there was a way to salvage some fun from this fire after all. It wouldn't be the same as a death, but what in life was, really?

_**x-0-x** _

Emily slid the file back into place and smiled at one of the medical student's jokes. She was about to head down the hall to check on a patient when her mobile phone vibrated in the pocket of her lab jacket. She had already forgotten about the silent calls the day before and withdrew the phone, hitting the 'talk' button and saying, "Dr. Emily Fitch."

A hoarse, low voice mumbled. "Your girlfriend just died in a fire. My condolences." and hung up without another word

She looked down at the phone in her shaking hand, eyes wide as her brain processed the words. One part of her brain told her that it wasn't true, couldn't be true, it was just the cruellest joke anyone had ever played on her. But then, another part of her brain whispered, 'but what if it is true?'

She moved down the hall, slowly building speed until she was running. She burst into the waiting room and snatched the remote from a man sleeping in an armchair.

She changed the channel, surfing aimlessly until she found live footage of yet another warehouse fire. She saw the ambulance on the scene with its lights flashing, saw the firefighters milling around on two sides of the building... saw that the entire roof had collapsed, leaving a gaping maw spitting fire angrily at the sky. From another dimension, she heard the reporter say that two firefighters had fallen through the surprisingly weak roof.

She hit the floor, her knees crying out in protest as they smacked the carpet. Later, they told her that she'd screamed loud enough to be heard at the nurse's desk, but she didn't remember that at all.

_**x-0-x** _

Freddie sat on his stretcher, finally calmed down enough to sit still, looking down at Effy as he breathed through the oxygen mask. The fire had been knocked down and all that remained was clearing the wreckage. Tomone approached the medic truck, climbing onto the bumper and glancing at Effy before he said, "All right, Freds, what the hell happened up there?"

Freddie pulled his mask off and shook his head. "Okay, uh... we made it onto the roof, but something was hinky up there, man."

"Kinky?" Tomone asked.

"No, hinky. Not quite... right."

"How?"

Freddie seemed lost for a moment. After he'd had a moment to think, he shook his head. "All I remember clearly is falling. I thought I was dead meat for sure..." Clearing his throat, he said, "The roof was way too unstable. Shaky. It got really bad after Effy started cutting... like we were just standing on a surfboard made out of plywood. The roof started to buckle, so I jumped and grabbed Effy. Figured I'd..." He exhaled. "I don't know. I guess I figured she could use me to break her fall or something, I don't know. I wasn't thinking."

"And you just walked away?" Tomone asked, sounding as if he wouldn't believe it if he hadn't seen it with his own two eyes. "That was a three-story drop in there, man."

"Effy hurt her knee and hip. Not bad, but I had to help her walk outta there."

"Where did you land?"

"There were no fucking floors, Chief... just air, all the way down to the ground level. We hit this big pile of crap... I don't even know what it was. I was on fire, but Effy patted me out and we got outta there like the hounds of Hell were on our heels." He shrugged and muttered, "Probably ain't too far from the truth..."

Effy said something into her mask, so Tomone moved to her side and removed it.

"The rafters," she said. "I saw them when we landed... just barely... They were all screwed up..."

"It's an old building," Tomone said.

"No... They looked like clean cuts. Like someone sawed through them."

Tomone looked over his shoulder and spotted Campbell amid the clean up crew. "Sounds like the arsonist theory might hold water after all." He clapped Effy on the shoulder and said, "Get well soon, Stonham. They only give us so many replacements during the calendar year and we kinda like you."

"I'll be back ASAP, Tommo promise."

Tomone climbed out of the truck and grabbed the doors, seeing Effy take Freddie's hand before he shut the door on them. He turned and stalked back towards the building. If someone was setting traps, like Campbell suggested, if they were trying to kill his firefighters... this was going to be the last damn time.

_**x-0-x** _

"It was like something out of the movies," Naomi said, "the way Freddie came strutting out of that building with Effy? Oh, man, me without my camera."

Cook slapped Freddie on the leg. "I thought I told you to leave the heroics to me, ay? Or at least time them so I'm around to see it! Man, I cannot believe I missed Mr. Hero here. Three damn floors, man!" The sandy haired man still grousing at being called up and told his friends were in hospital and then making his own panicked drive to the place he'd not long been discharged from.

"Excuse me," a nurse said from the edge of the curtain.

"Sorry you missed the big show, Cookie. But did Superman time his heroics so the spectators could watch? Did Batman?"

"You calling me Lois Lane?" Cook asked.

Naomi nodded at the other bed. "If anyone's Lois Lane, it's Effy here. How's that IV drip working out for you, Eff?"

Effy gave a thumbs-up. "I'm thinking of coming here after shifts from now on."

"Excuse me," the nurse said again.

Cook finally heard her and stepped to one side. "Sorry, sweetheart," he said as she walked in.

"Look, Freddie," Naomi said. "You do realize we're never going to let you live this down, right? The teasing begins now! Okay, so, how many drivers does it take to completely screw up a ventilation cut?"

The nurse put a hand on Naomi's arm. "Excuse me."

"Can it wait?" Naomi asked. She had a whole list of jokes she couldn't wait to unleash on Freddie.

The nurse tried to smile, but it didn't work very well. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but do you know Dr Emily Fitch?"

Naomi frowned. "Yeah."

"There's been an incident."

The blood drained from Naomi's face.

_**x-0-x** _

The nurse looked up at the smell of smoke, automatically prepared to bollock whoever had lit a cigarette. Instead, she saw a frightened looking woman with a soot-blackened face charging towards the desk. "Emily collapsed?" she asked. She put her dirty hands on the counter and left two starfish-shaped smudges. She was wearing bunker pants, wide braces holding them up over her once-blue department t-shirt. Her hair was messed up, blue eyes wide, scared and searching. "Is there someone here who..."

"You mean Dr. Fitch?" the nurse said.

"They said she collapsed," the firefighter said, snapping her eyes forward again, locking onto the voice of someone who might be able to help her. "Where is she, is she all right?"

"She's fine," the nurse said, coming around the edge of the desk. "She's right this way."

She led the firefighter down the corridor and knocked on the door frame as she stepped inside. "Dr. Fitch? There's a..."

The firefighter shoved past her and made a bee-line for the bed. "Em's, what happened? Are you all right?"

"Naomi," Emily gasped. She held her arms out for a hug and caught Naomi just before she hit the bed. The nurse who'd been sitting with Dr. Fitch rose from the easy chair, heading for the door. Both nurses smiling as they closed the door behind them.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi sat on the edge of the bed, cradling Emily under her arm while the petite woman was sipping her apple juice and staring at her trainers. "I feel like such a fool," she said. "Everyone making such a fuss over me..."

"You collapsed in the waiting room... correction, they said you screamed and collapsed. What happened?"

"Someone called me," she said, keeping her voice low. "They said 'Your girlfriend just died in a fire.'"

"What?" Naomi growled.

"Honey," Emily said quietly, touching Naomi's blackened hand. "Of course, I... figured it was just a crank call. I got a couple of those yesterday. But I turned on the news and there was this huge fire and they were talking about firefighters falling through a roof..."

"That was Freds and Effy."

Emily gasped. "Not that sweet man I met at the funeral... oh, God, and the pretty brunette.."

"Nah, they're fine. They're a little banged up, they're downstairs getting the royal treatment from your guys, but I'm fine and they're fine."

Emily sighed and closed her eyes. "I need to get over this. I can't panic and flail and fall down every time you leave for work in the morning. You could die in a fire, but I could get pricked with an infected needle. It's a crap shoot. We shouldn't spend all our time worrying about what may happen."

Naomi rubbed her shoulder and said, "Maybe you're just... maybe last night..."

With a grin, Emily pressed her face against Naomi's shoulder. "What, you think now that we've slept together, I'm going to turn into an obsessive loony?"

Naomi smiled. "You're the one getting all melodramatic and wailing in the waiting room."

Emily sat up and said, "I'll be fine. I just have to call my mobile company about these damn crank calls."

"Have they all been this bad?"

"No, the ones yesterday were just hang-ups... More annoying than anything else. This is the first time the person spoke to me, couldn't figure out if it was male or female though."

Naomi shuddered. "It's a little frightening, though, right? That someone knows you at least well enough to know about me."

"I'm choosing to ignore that at the moment. The last thing I need is a stalker."

Naomi hugged Emily and kissed the top of her head. "Yeah... I got here first."

Emily laughed and pushed away, sliding off the bed. "I have to get back at work before they declare me legally dead. Thank you for coming to make sure I was okay."

"I couldn't stay away," Naomi shrugged. They kissed at the door and parted ways. As she reached for the lift call button, the doors parted and Tomone stepped out. He scanned the corridor before glancing to his left and seeing her. "Boss, what are you doing here?" she asked, moving over to him.

"Been looking for you... they said you were up here. How is... uh..."

"Emily. She's fine. Just a little episode."

"Glad to hear it," he said. He took her by the elbow and dragged her into the elevator car he'd just vacated. "Based on something Freddie and Eff told me, I called the arson investigator and had him take a quick look at the latest fire. Turns out the rafters were cut by some sort of power tool. It was deliberate and it looks like it was done recently."

"How can he tell that?" Naomi asked. Her mind was racing at what she was being told. An arsonist was targeting them. God, how could that be true?

"Something to do with weather and exposure... He said that the, uh, wear and tear were uneven or... something," Tomone said. He waved dismissively. "I don't know the details, its why I'm not an investigator. The important part is that I'm sorry for not listening to you before. These fires were definitely set. Someone out there is trying to hurt us."

Naomi shook her head. "Okay, playing devil's advocate... how do we know this fire is related to the other ones?"

"It's just like the other two; the building was also designed and developed from the ground up by Moore Designs, Incorporated. Project headed by one Sophia Moore."

Naomi groaned and slumped against the wall of the elevator. "So who is the target? Us or Moore?"

"Martin is on his way over to talk with Moore now. I figured with your history..."

"Aw, Tommo, do you actually hate me?" she groaned.

He held up his hands. "Hear me out. Your history, plus... if you walk in looking the way you do now, she may feel sympathetic. We might learn something useful."

"So I'm there to be pitied?"

"No. I meant the look in your eye when you thought Freddie and Effy were dead. I'm talking about how Freddie said you looked half insane with rage when you heard Emily might be hurt. I want you to scare that smug bitch into cooperating."

Naomi smiled. "That, I think I'm capable of."

_**x-0-x** _

She watched the news coverage, smiling the entire time despite the failure to kill anyone. Three fires, one casualty. She was so far behind schedule it was barely tolerable, but this mass panic was wonderful. Every major news station in the north west was playing footage of the fire. It had even made the national news, the BBC combining their coverage with shots of all the fires in the past week. "Must be a month for fires," one reporter intoned with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, yes," she responded to the screen. "Oh, yes, indeed."

Helicopters had circled the latest building like maverick honeybees, each making sure their station got its fair share of tragic entertainment.

It was magnificent. She only wished the fire had burned longer. The firemen were far too efficient in getting the blaze to die down. Still, she had got a kick out of the phone call at least.

She turned back to the table, her hand brushing over the photographs. She got a thrill out of the terror emanating from her partner as they sorted through the photos. She'd taken the camera out of her glove compartment, knowing mere words wouldn't convey the true wonder of the moment. Her partner was near-tears at the sight of a few, gasping out loud at others.

"Well?"

"These are horrific."

One photo showed Naomi's anguished face, as she stood with the large black man, Tomone, listening to their radios. The arsonist noticed her partner put that one face-down on the pile.

"Are they what you wanted?"

"No." This was said softly, almost a thought.

"The buildings are living again. Just as you wanted."

"I never wanted this. Not this." A weak, lame wave of a hand indicated the photos. I just wanted the buildings to live, to be magnificent again.

"You make me do your dirty work because you're too weak to do it yourself."

"I didn't know you'd have pictures."

"I wish I had had a video camera!"

Her partner pushed the photos away. "Go away. I don't want you here any more."

"Kicking me out?" She laughed. "As if I'm going anywhere".

"FINE. I'll leave then."

She stood and gathered the pictures. "I'm not going to stop because you're getting squeamish."

"Naomi Camp.."

"..is a fire-fighter and the entire point was that they're expendable. The point is the buildings. Giving them life by taking the lives of others. That was your plan. Not mine. You broke the rules and got attached"

Her partner retreated and left, finally leaving her alone. With a sigh, relishing the silence, she laid her art out once more. Oh, that she'd had a high definition video camera! To relive the anguish in Campbell's face over and over again. She snickered at that, imagining forcing her partner to watch the tape... that would be must-see TV, for certain.

She turned back to her desk, threw the photos in a draw and opened a new file. She sorted through the paperwork and tried to decide which would be her next project. Seven buildings, all abandoned and none scheduled for demolition. All standing, skeletons of their former glory, homes to rats of both the vermin and human variety. They gathered garbage, blocked sunlight, they were called eyesores and bore embarrassing "Condemned" signs over their shamed faces. She could get them legally, demolished easy enough, but... the thought of big machines pushing them over would make her nothing more than a bully. No, with fires, they ended their lives with dignity at the very least.

No more would they be ignored, she had vowed. They would not only be given a proper burial, they would go out in a literal blaze of glory. Their final moments would be seen by all and feared by anyone who had the misfortune to be nearby. But the damn firefighters...

She admitted she needed them. By taking a life, the building fulfilled its destiny. It accepted its place in the hearts of at least a handful of firefighters who would never forget the building that took their friend. A sacrifice to the gods.

She had a few things she wanted to try... new accelerants, new traps to set up. She was still furious that her rafter snare had come up empty. She'd worked damned hard on that, nasty horrible manual labour. She hated manual labour as much as her pen-pushing partner in crime. Ah, well... she would just have to up the ante next time.

She pulled Campbell's mobile phone from another desk drawer and stared at it for a long time. Was it too soon to put in another call to Emily Fitch? Her finger was poised over the button when an intercom on his desk buzzed. She sighed and answered. "I asked not to be disturbed during the news."

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry. But there are some people here to see you."

Frowning, she stuck the mobile phone back into her desk drawer and glanced at the door of her office. Who would be here to see her? She had no appointments. "Yes, sure, send them in."

The door opened and her secretary escorted the unannounced visitors in. She couldn't resist smiling. "Naomi! How nice to see you... and who is your friend?"

"Fire Investigator Bill Martin," the portly man said. "We need to have a talk about the recent fires, Ms. Moore."

She had to fight to keep her smile. Things had just taken a definite turn for the worst.


	13. Mill About Smartly

Sophia's smile seemed to waver slightly, but it came back in full dazzling force a heartbeat later. "Of course," she said, regaining her composure. She straightened her jacket and ushered them into the office. "Please, come in." She looked past them at the secretary. "Thank you, Sandra, that will be all... u-unless our guests would like something to drink. Coffee? Tea or lemonade...?"

"No, we're fine."

"Okay, thank you, Sandra."

The elderly secretary nodded and stepped out of the room. Moore closed the door behind her and indicated the seats in front of her desk. "Naomi, Chief Martin... or should I call you Mr. Martin, which..."

"Chief is fine," Martin muttered, sinking into the leather seat the developer had indicated.

Naomi remained standing, indicating her soiled bunker pants as an excuse. She was wearing the same thing she'd worn to the hospital, per Tomone's instructions, and had felt incredibly conspicuous waiting for an elevator in the pristine lobby of Moore Designs, Inc. "I would prefer Ms. Campbell, while we're on the subject of names."

Sophia looked at her for a moment, before blinking and holding her hands out. "Very well, suppose I can't argue with that." She walked around her desk and carefully lowered herself into her own seat. "Now, Ms. Campbell, Chief Martin, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

Martin spoke. "I was assigned to look over a few recent fires. During the course of our investigation, we discovered some disturbing evidence that indicates fires are the product of an arsonist. We think the same firebug is responsible for all of the fires."

"Oh, dear," Moore said, her face paling. "Someone like that, running around in a town like this? Do you have any idea who it might be?"

"No," Martin admitted. "At the moment, we're not even sure who the true target is. Every fire seems to be aimed at eliminating the firefighters that respond, but we also have to deal with the fact that all the buildings are projects of your company."

"Is that true?" she asked, leaning forward. "I... thought I was just being paranoid. Oh, my goodness, if somehow my buildings a-are more susceptible to arson, I must offer my most sincere apologies..."

Naomi shook her head. "No, it's not your buildings. I seem to have inspected a hell of a lot of them myself and they seem sound. We also have to consider that it's just a coincidence. Your company does very well in the area and the fact that the arsonist keeps picking your buildings might just be luck of the draw."

"Hmm." She smiled weakly and sat back in her chair. "The one time I win the luck of the draw..."

Martin smirked. "Look, Ms. Moore, basically we just wanted to know if you had any enemies... rivals that might want to tarnish your company's reputation or cause you financial troubles."

"Financial troubles aren't an issue... all these buildings are insured." She glanced at Naomi and said, "Which I hope you won't take as a motive. It's a smart business practice to..."

"We understand, Ms. Moore," Naomi said. "But try to think... Is there anyone you know that would want to hurt you in this way?"

She ran a finger along her top lip and stared at the window for a moment. "I'm afraid I can't think of anyone specific off the top of my head," she sighed and shrugged apologetically. "My enemies, what few there are, tend to aim for my purse. And we're not talking subtlety here. I've had court dates five out of the past eight weeks. If anyone was going to try and hurt me, they'd do it there. In the courtroom, with the legal system behind them."

"I had no idea you were in such dire legal straits, Ms. Moore"

"It's worse than it sounds, really," he said. "Land rights, property lines in dispute, people suing because my new development blocks their view of the Mersey or some such nonsense. It's usually settled out of court."  
"Anyone hacked off at their settlement? Maybe think they weren't getting what they deserved, decided to take a pound of flesh along with their money?"

Moore grinned. "As Ms. Campbell could probably attest, Chief, I can be very charming. Usually, when the case is over, the plaintiffs thank me and apologize for taking my time." 

Naomi rolled her eyes at the comment and noticed Moore was pushing her chair back and forth with one foot. She seemed relaxed, almost at ease with the world around her, like any arrogant, pig ignorant rich bitch. She frowned; she'd been antsy when they'd arrived, but now that she was hearing their questions it was almost as if she didn't have a care in the world. "May I ask you a question, Ms. Moore?"

Those large eyes turned Naomi's way. "Of course, Ms. Campbell."

"How do you feel about firefighters?"

The brunette blinked and tilted her head. "Well, I don't know. How do you mean?"

"Just... in general. If you see a fire engine on the street, what's your first thought?"

Sophia glanced at Chief Martin before returning her gaze to the blonde and shrugged. "I... don't know. I hope no one is hurt. I hope it's not my building they're heading for..." She smiled and held her hands out. "I must confess, I don't spend a lot of my time thinking about them. It's a shame, too, considering the invaluable duty you all serve."

'Hard to believe,' she thought, 'considering the number of times you've called the firehouse, all the times you've dropped off snacks, all the pestering you've done...' She bit back the cutting remarks lined up on her tongue and said, "Do you know what a flashover is, Ms. Moore?"

"Yes," she sighed, scratching her temple. "That's a kind of food, isn't it? No, wait, I'm thinking of apple turnovers." She looked at Martin, as if expecting a laugh, and then shook her head when she received no response. "I'm afraid the answer is no, Ms. Campbell, I don't know what a flashover is."

"It's not important," Naomi said.

"Any other questions?" Moore asked. Naomi shook her head and Chief Martin stood, smoothing his shirt over his belly. "All right, then. Thank you for your time, Ms. Moore. We just wanted to let you know that this guy seemed to be focusing on your buildings and see if you might be able to point us in the right direction."  
"I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help."

She shook hands with the Chief, then turned and extended her hand to Naomi. She looked at her for a moment and reached out to grasp her hand. "It was nice to see you again, Naomi."

She pinched off a smile and nodded her head once. "Back at ya, Sophie-bobs."

She suddenly and painfully tightened her grip on the blondes hand, her eyes blazing for a moment before returning to normal. Calmly, she said, "Sophia... if you would please."

"Right. Sorry."

She relaxed her grip and Naomi squeezed. Sophia's foot stuttered forward and she muttered a quick, "Ah," before she could stop himself. Naomi smiled and released her hand, watching as the brunette cupped the hand, massaging the knuckles.

Naomi shrugged. "Gee, sorry. Don't know my own strength."

Sophia escorted them to the door of her office and thanked them for letting her know of the potential problem with her buildings. When they were alone in the hall, Martin stepped close to Naomi, "What the hell was all that in there? Flashover, the whole hand deal... Is Moore a suspect?"

"Moore's a prick," she said, shaking her head. "Tomone shouldn't have sent me... I hate this woman."

"Really," Martin said sarcastically, leading the way down the hall. "If only there was some way to decipher your complex system of communication."

She lifted her right hand, showing him her middle finger.

"Now whatever is that supposed to mean?"

_**x-0-x** _

Sophia walked back to her desk, fuming. How much did they know? If they were going to arrest her or even interrogate her, there's no way they would have just left like that. But Naomi - pardon... Ms. Campbell, had been glaring at her throughout the interview, almost as if she knew she was responsible. The older chief seemed as blindsided by her questions as Moore herself, so it obviously wasn't a good-cop, bad-cop performance, or a really poor one. Naomi had to have seen something that made her suspect her. Maybe she'd overplayed her crush on her. It didn't matter now anyway.

She sat behind his desk and stared at the closed file of potential targets. Campbell. It all came back to her. She had been a nice distraction - hypnotic eyes, strong arms - but she was becoming an irritating nuisance. And from what she'd seen of her dates with the doctor, she didn't have a chance with her anyway. Shame... such beauty wasted on that other....thing.

She leaned back in her chair, wishing there was a way to ensure that she would be the sacrifice in the next fire. There was no way to do that unless she was privy to Tomone's command decisions. There was by-the-book and there was the experience factor and Tomones loyalty to his watch. She wasn't sure she could trust the Chief to do the anticipated thing.

Closing her eyes, she tried to think of a way to remove Tomone from the equation. The only way she could think of accomplishing her goals would be if there was a situation Naomi absolutely, positively had to be in. Her eyes opened as a plan started to form in her mind. There was one way to assure where Naomi Campbell would be during a fire. It would mean deviating from her original plan, of course, but it would be worth it to get that suspicious bitch out of the way. Then she could continue without her interfering.

_**x-0-x** _

 

The next morning, Naomi left the bunks and headed for the kitchen. She froze when she spotted the cluster of bodies within the bunker area, talking in hushed voices. "Whoa. Someone having a prank done and forget to call me?"

Cook, instantly identifiable due to the bandages on his neck turned and flashed his trademark grin. "Hey, Campbell. Come on down, give us a hand."

Tomone and Franklin were standing next to him, a sign that whatever they were up to was at least approved by the bosses. Sawyer, Freddie's rival on the engine, smiled as he handed her a roll of crepe paper. "Time to get in touch with your artistic side, Supermodel."

It was a tradition in the firehouse to decorate someone's locker after a big event like a wedding, divorce, birthday and the like. She looked at the locker and saw that Freddie was the intended victim this time. Banners with 'Fireproof!' branded on them covered the front of the locker door. "What's all this about?" she smiled as she took a roll of crinkled paper.

"Freds has been cleared for duty," Cook explained. "One day after falling through a freaking roof, he and Eff are both coming back."

"Whoah, really?" Naomi said, raising her eyebrows. "I thought Effy hurt her leg or her hip or something?"

Tomone shrugged, "She was banged up, but she called in this morning and the doc seems to think it was just a bruise. She's going to get an x-ray this morning and then be with us in time for lunch."

"Excellent," Naomi said. "But... well, if we're decorating, shouldn't we give Cookie's locker a sign that says 'Quit milking it, you pussy'?"

Cook nailed her in the face with a roll of cellotape.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi was in the den playing some sort of boxing video game with Cook. Naomi's character was pummelling Cook's version of Frazier. As he neared a TKO, Cook griped, "That fire must've ruined my reflexes. I swear, I can't move this thumb near as well as I used to..."

"There goes your social life," Naomi said. On the screen, the digital Ali served an upper-cut to Frazier, dropping him to the mat.

She threw her arms up in victory and Cook cursed at the game. He pointed at her and said, "It's a good thing you're a firefighter. If you were really Ali, you would've ruined boxing forever with that dirty fighting."

"TKO, baby. Whine to your momma Cookie Monster."

She glanced at the door and saw Effy watching, a slight smile on her lips. "Hey, Effy. Come on, let's show Cook how dangerous a girl fight can really be."

"I'll take a rain check on that. But could I pull you away for a minute or two? There's something I need to talk with you about."

"I'm all ears," Cook said, resetting the game to fight against the computer.

Effy thumped him on the back of the head and motioned to Naomi. "Do you mind?"

"No, it's all right." She patted Cook on the back when she passed by and said, "Next time, I'll be Mancini and you can be Duk Koo Kim."

"No way, you sick bastard, I know how that fight ended!"

Naomi laughed and followed Effy into the apparatus bay. They went outside, walking across the grass to a quiet spot next to the kitchen window. Effy leaned against the wall, withdrawing a cigarette and offering one to Naomi. "No, thanks. What did you need to talk about?"

Effy inhaled a lungful of smoke and blew it out slowly through her nose and mouth. Naomi stood upwind, away from the exhaled flow and stuck her hands into her back pockets as she waited. Without preamble, Effy blurted, "I slept with Freddie last night."

Naomi blinked, whipping her head around to look at Effy' face, certain she had heard wrong. "You, uh..."

"I know how stupid it was, I know I should've walked away, should have known better, I told all that crap to myself this morning when I woke up and realized what I'd done, so we can skip that part of the lecture."

"Are we also skipping the part about your fiancé?"

Effy shrugged.

"Shit, Elizabeth. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I had just fallen through a flaming building with this guy who held my hand on the way to the hospital. I remember feeling more scared than ever before and him being there for me. I wasn't thinking. When we landed in that building, before he pulled me up, I told myself that I was a goner. I didn't think there was a way out. My leg hurt, I figured I was probably paralyzed anyway... I was prepared to die. But then Freddie picked me up and practically carried me out of that building. I'd be dead if he hadn't fallen with me."

Naomi leaned against the wall, watching the traffic go by the station. "Don't try to prolong it," she suggested. "Let Freddie know it was what it was; a one-night stand." She looked over and said, "That is what it is, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Effy said, nodding emphatically. She took a drag on her cigarette and examining the ash before she flicked it into the grass. "It's just..."

"Uh-oh," Naomi said, anticipating that even worse news was on its way.

"You never go into a fire without the proper tools. You get into trouble like that. But sometimes, when you're caught off-guard, you might find yourself in a flaming inferno without your halligen or your PASS device. We didn't, ah... Freddie and I weren't fully equipped."

Naomi frowned. "I saw you on the truck."

"After the fire," Effy said. She raised her eyebrows and gestured with her cigarette. "After..."

"Oh, shit," Naomi muttered. "You didn't use anything?!"

"Freddie graduated from high school a long time ago, Naomi. Guys don't exactly carry condoms around in their wallets these days. I... didn't plan on it."

"You and your fiancé... you don't have birth control pills?"

Effy averted her gaze to look intently at the grocery store across the street. "We decided we wanted kids right away. So we... we've been trying."

"I hope your fiancé has really good Italian colouring," Naomi said.

"There's a chance that we... that nothing really happened," Effy said.

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Either what you guys did can lead to a baby or it can't. There's not a whole lot of middle-ground on procreation, even I know that. Which is it?"

"We... uh," she stopped and exhaled. Finally, she shook her head and rubbed her temple with two fingers. "We did a lot of stuff. But... I don't know, I can't remember where we drew the line. If anywhere."

"High school biology time..."

Effy sighed. "We did what you do to have a baby. I just don't know if Freddie... you know... when he was inside..."

"Oh, God, please, take these mental images away from me," Naomi groaned. She turned and leaned against the wall next to Effy, rubbing her eyes to rid them of the images. "Okay, where do I come in? What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. I just kind of had to tell someone. I thought you'd be the least judgemental, but I guess I was wrong."

Naomi laughed. "Oh, no, you were right on the money. You do not want Tomone or Franklin or, hell, even Cook finding out about what you just told me. You slept with another firefighter. The Chief is highly intolerant of this kind of thing." She brushed her mouth and thought about her options. "Okay. I assume you know about the morning-after pill? Is that an option?"

"My regular doctor is friends with my family. He went to university with my fiancé, so... even with the confidentiality..."

Naomi nodded. "The fact that someone close to you knows is a little..."

"Gross. And I'd think about it every time we ran into each other. And who knows, he may spill the beans."

"Does confidentiality not mean anything to this guy?"

Effy shrugged. "There's protocol and then there's friends-for-life. There's a chance he'd bring up prescribing the pills the next time they were out for an old boys drinking binge. I can't risk it getting out."

Naomi sighed, "Jesus, Effy, you're really in it." She scratched her cheek and shook her head. "All right, I know a doctor who can help us. She'll check you out and get you a morning-after pill. And from now on, if you're going to make mistakes like this, get your hands on some birth control, all right?"

Effy nodded and said, "It was just that it seemed like Freddie was the only real thing, you know? After the fire?" She took a drag off her cigarette and shrugged. "I called my fiancé on the phone and he... was scared. And he was compassionate and loving. But there was a voice in the back of my mind that kept saying 'He doesn't get it. He doesn't get how scary it was, or how I thought I was going to die or how I prepared myself to die. And he'll never get it.' And then, there was Freddie. Who not only went through it with me, but saved my life. And... it wasn't just about sex, Naomi. It was about him being there. And me being there. And just... being there right then. You know?"

"Yeah," Naomi admitted. She chewed her bottom lip and sagged against the wall again. "Look, we'll have my doctor friend look you over, make sure Freddie didn't give you any STDs or vice versa. She'll make sure everything's good. With any luck, your fiancé is none-the-wiser and you go on living with this secret. Can you do that?"

"Yeah," Effy nodded. "Thanks, Naomi."

"No problem." She patted Effy on the shoulder and said, "I'll get those tests set up this afternoon, after shift, okay?"

"Sure. I owe you one."

"We're good," Naomi assured her. "Just... for the love of God, never pull me aside to tell me you slept with Cook."

Effy laughed and said, "Believe me, that happens and you'll read about it in my suicide note."

They headed back inside, spotting Freddie in the den with Cook. She put a hand on Effy' shoulder and said, "Go across the bay."

"And do what?"

"I don't care... just mill about smartly," she said, meaning for Effy to just wander around and look busy. Effy headed towards the equipment locker and Naomi went into the den. She rounded the chair and straddled Freddie's legs, blocking the TV. He cleared his throat and looked up at her with his eyebrows raised. "Not that I'm complaining about the view, but I'm kind of in the middle of something here..."

"Go talk," Naomi said.

"I'm just..."

"Go," she said, nodding into the bay. "Talk."

Freddie looked over his shoulder and followed her gaze. He spotted Effy standing by the equipment. He sighed and handed her his controller. He pulled his legs back and stood up. "You know?"

"A little. Go on, have a nice chat."

He nodded and slipped out of the room. As Naomi sat down, Cook watched Freddie go and said, "Who does he have to talk to?"

"He knows."

"About what?"

"Again... he knows."

Cook sighed and shook his head, hitting his controller to resume the game. "Ya stop watching a soap opera for one week and suddenly you don't know any of the characters...It's worse than fucking Hollyoaks."

Naomi laughed and patted his shoulder. "It's all right. You'll be back in the swing of things before you know it. Now..." she said, picking up her controller. "Prepare your ass for a royal reaming."

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi unlocked her flat door, tossed her bag inside and went back down the hall. She picked up the package resting on top of her neighbor's welcome mat and rapped her knuckles against the door. She heard the chair hit the wall - a steady series of bangs - and then the shuffling of a walker being pushed across the hardwood floor. When the door opened, the security chain was still in place and a moon-shaped face peered out at her.  
"Hello, Mr. Round," she said, lifting the package. "You have a delivery."

"Ooh!" he said, his high-pitched voice wavering. He closed the door and moved the chain out of the way. When the door opened again, his entire body was revealed. Naomi always thought he looked like one of those "It's a Boy!" balloons with arms and legs made of ribbon. He was wearing a green sweater and a white shirt with a bow-tie, his entire wardrobe apparently bought from Stock Grandpas 'R Us. He smiled up at her, his glasses perched on the end of his button-nose. "Who is it from?"

"Errrrrr” she turned the parcel over “Your son," she said, reading the return address as she handed it over. Both the addressee and sender names ended with Round, so Naomi was forced to accept the fact that this man had actually grown to fit his name. He took the package, smiling down at it. "Looks like another bottle of Scotch," she guessed.

"Oh, yes, yes, he's too good to me!"

"Enjoy it, Mr. Round."

He nodded and said, "Oh, I will! I will! And you'll have to bring your boyfriend around and share some with me!"

Alex sighed. "I've told you, Mr. Round..."

"Yes, the girls, I remember. But I figured that if you were going to let that man drive your car, then..."  
Alex blinked, not hearing the rest of what Mr. Round said. "Wait a minute," she interrupted, putting a hand on his wrist. "What do you mean 'drive my car'? Who did you see in my car? When?"

He shrugged. "I don't know... It was a few nights ago, pretty late. I just assumed he had driven it somewhere."

"Start from the beginning," she said, heart pounding. "A few days ago, you saw a man in my car? What time was it?"

"Well, I was looking out my window at the stars, as I always do, you know. It must have been past eleven. And, you know, the view from up here is so much better when you get above all the street lights and headlights and..."

"Please, Mr. Round..."

He cleared his throat, hugging his package to his chest. "Well, I happened to look down and I saw your Jeep. I saw someone in it and, at first I just assumed it was you. Then, the door opened and a man got out. He walked across the alley and got into another car and drove away. I figured he had driven you some place."

"Can you describe the man?"

"He was just a shadow to me, tallish and had one of those hoodie tops on. I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, Mr. Round, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be grilling you like this. Thank you for telling me."

She bid him farewell and practically ran into her flat. Her mobile phone had been in her car. Whoever had broken in had to have stolen it. She grabbed her house phone and dialed her mobile, listening angrily for whoever it was to answer. After seven rings, it went to voice mail. She cursed and hung up, heading across the apartment and staring out the window.

She watched a limping dog, probably the same one from a few nights ago, inching down the sidewalk, trying to keep up with her racing mind. Someone had broken into her Jeep, left no sign they'd been there and had stolen only her mobile phone? The coins in her ashtray hadn't even been touched. And in this neighborhood, all cars were just bundles of metal waiting to be dismantled and sold.

As she pondered the mystery, her mind kept tugging her back to the arsons. Moore was hiding something. She was sure of it.

The buildings were all insured. Maybe Moore had hired someone to torch them, get the money. Maybe the lawsuits against her company were bleeding her dry, sending her deeper and deeper into the bankruptcy well. She finds a firebug who likes to watch flames dance, gives him a couple of addresses and the guy gets his rocks off burning a few old and abandoned buildings. The firebug is satisfied and Moore gets to sit back, wait for the insurance company to call and she gets an instant payday.

But if she was going into debt, she certainly wasn't showing any signs of it. She was still getting called out to regular building inspections. If the company was losing money, how on earth could she afford to continue developing all these new buildings? She sighed and sat down on the couch, putting her feet up and closing her eyes.

It was pointless to play detective, especially when there was no real evidence Moore had done anything. She reached for the house phone again and dialed another number, this time getting a reply on the second ring. 

"Dr. Emily Fitch," a sleepy voice said. "Who may I ask is calling?

"The love of your life."

"Okay, Rhonda, but we'll have to make it fast. I'm expecting a call from Naomi Campbell soon."

Though sure Emily was kidding, Naomi was surprised to feel her heart drop. "Hey, Emily... please, don't joke like that."

"Okay," Emily said. "Is something wrong Nai?"

"Long day," Naomi sighed, covering her eyes with her hand. She was surprised to find wetness on her cheeks. "God," she managed, sniffling and wiping at her eyes.

"Freddie and Effy?"

"Yeah," she breathed.

"The fire or the... other thing?" Emily asked. Naomi had spoken with Emily about Effy needing the morning-after pill earlier and had explained the whole sordid mess over the phone. Emily had set the appointment for the next day, explaining that the 'morning-after' reference was a misnomer and the pill would still be effective if taken within 72-hours of intercourse.

"The fire. Freddie wanted me on the roof with him. Tommo overruled him, sent Effy up instead. If it had been me... Freddie wouldn't have been watching as closely. I may have..."

"Hey, what did we just talk about yesterday? No second-guessing, no 'what if' or 'if only' talk. You're here. Effy and Freddie are both alive, too... really alive judging by the tests I'm supposed to do tomorrow." Naomi couldn't resist smiling at that. "It just wasn't your time. It wasn't theirs, either."

Naomi stared at the ceiling. "Time. That doesn't matter."

"What do you mean?"

"Someone is setting these fires. They're trying to kill firefighters. The fire yesterday, the rafters on the roof where Effy was trying to cut had been sawed through. The roof was too weak and collapsed. Someone is trying to kill us, Emily."

There was silence on the other end of the line. After a moment, she said, "Fuck Naomi. Who would... who could be that evil?"

Something snapped together in Naomi's mind like puzzle pieces. She blinked and said, "Someone evil enough to call and tell you that I had died in the fire."

"You think the arson and my prank calls are connected to each other?"

"They have to be." She sat up. "My neighbour told me that he saw someone in my car a few nights ago. I figured they'd stolen my mobile phone, but I didn't put it together with your crank calls until right now. Shit," she breathed. "This guy has all my numbers. He has all my contacts. He's the one who's been calling you."

"This is scary, Naomi."

Naomi hesitated, the worst case scenario playing through her mind, "He may not be targeting firefighters Emz. He may be targeting me."


	14. Slowly, Sadly, Lonely

Sophia Moore had a perfect view of Liverpool's skyline outside her office window. Night had fallen and most of her employees had gone home. Some of them had families and others might even have night jobs... the majority of them were married, either to a person or to some vice. She wasn't sure what they did outside these walls and she didn't pretend to care. Her secretary had stopped by to see if she needed anything else before she left and she had sent her away. She knew she was widowed and had two grown kids; she'd seen their pictures on her desk and knew them only as Ugly Boy and Slutty Girl. Their real names were useless to her.

She was taking the night off, a well-deserved rest from the exhausting work of setting fires. As much as she hated to admit it, she was becoming disillusioned. What good was it if the fires didn't work? The firefighters were pretty much in the same position they were before, minus one stinking probie. For all she knew, that kid was meant to die in a fire anyway. She couldn't claim that one with any sense of pride. It was like bragging about stepping on a spider. No thrill, no skill, no guts.

The city was quiet tonight. She wondered if there would be any legitimate fires tonight... perhaps another arsonist would come to her aid. It wasn't like she held the monopoly on setting blazes. If someone else joined in the fun, well, it would be all the more fun, wouldn't it? Turn that damn investigator on his ass trying to catch two birds with one net or something like that.

She sipped her vodka and grimaced. It had been her father's drink and she'd never seen the appeal. But her image of a successful business women, the mental picture of the woman behind this desk she wanted to maintain, always included a tumbler of alcohol, almost always vodka. So she kept up appearances.  
The vodka was a salute to her grandfather, a Russian immigrant who had come to this country and promptly been beaten and robbed in an alley. He'd survived, but only just barely. When he was up and about once more, he sold most of the family's meagre possession and used it to buy the building flanking the alley where he'd been robbed of his dignity. Anatoly Marusya became Anthony Moore. Everyone in the family had a traditional Russian name to go with their American name. Behind closed doors, they called the bland British monikers their 'code names.' Sophia Marusya, the only child of Anatoly's only son Artur, was Sophie Moore to the rest of the world. She soon changed her first name back to her original proud heritage. Conceding to keep the surname to appease her father.

Anatoly had taken the one building and transformed it into two. He refurbished the buildings, made them sparkle and then sold them both for a profit. He sent Artur to university to become an architect, all the while building the family fortune in anticipation of the day Artur would take over for him.

When Anatoly was eighty, his son came to him with a diploma and a plan. He turned his father's business into Moore Designs. Sophia had been in the office, buried in the fluffy cushions of her grandfather's couch, watching as Artur put an arm around her own father and motioned at the windows. "The west tried to take you away, Father. Together, we shall take this single, small town and we will make it ours."

Artur took over the company, demonstrating a keen eye for the business side of things as well as for the design aspect. He took the reins of the company after his father died, immediately beginning to shape Sophia to take his place. With Artur in charge, the company's profits took off, his name gracing the front page of local papers, his face appearing in all of the business magazines. But as his fame grew, so did his depression. Arthur Moore was the bright boy of business, the millionaire that everyone was scrambling to hire. Artur Marusya was a hidden man, a cipher hiding in the shadows.

Sophia was dragged to the office and forced to sit through hours of board meetings and business lunches when she should have been out on her own, being a child. As much as she hated her father for stealing her childhood, she also started to become a carbon-copy of the man. All outside influence was overwritten by his father's 'lessons.'

One night, looking over a blueprint and well into his bottle of vodka, her father had gestured at the building on the paper. "She is waiting to be born, Sophia. Buildings, they breathe... and when they are left, forgotten... they die. They die slowly, sadly, lonely."

Sophia had never been able to get the image out of her mind. Her first fire had been an accident, an expedition into one of her father's empty designs to look at the empty offices. She'd kicked over her old fashioned lantern by accident and watched in horror as the gas spread in a wide pool. She had run away, hiding and watching when the firefighters showed up. That night, the building had been on the news and a reporter had come by the apartment to speak with her father.

When they left, Artur had clapped his daughter on the back before draping an arm around her shoulders and said, "That is one building that lives again, eh, Sophia?"

She had only nodded, amazed at what she had accomplished.

Although amazing, she had never attempted to repeat the act even after her father's death and her subsequent inheritance of the company. Burning a building was exhilarating, but it was also dangerous. But when she met Naomi Campbell, something had clicked in her mind. Firefighters rushed into burning buildings put their lives on the line. If they were to sacrifice themselves, the building would live on in the minds of others.

Her first intention had been to approach Campbell as an accomplice. After all, if anyone knew about burning a building and getting away with it... but the blonde had proven to be far too noble for that. She continued to request her for her inspections, deeply in lust with her by that time. Of course, that was nothing more than an empty dream now.

She pinched her lips around a mouthful of vodka. That doctor... it was just pain wrong what they were doing, Campbell should be with her. She was furious with herself for wasting so much time with Naomi and her partner was furous with the waste of time and her lack of action. She'd been wasting time with everything lately, it seemed. She was irritated with how slow she'd been in realizing that. Planning one building at a time, trying to eliminate random firefighters. The trick would be to target specific sacrifices. Naomi Campbell would be the first to fall. Her partner was right. Campbell had to die.

Correction, she thought, finishing off her bottle and smirking at her partners reflection in the window as they made their presence known in the room. 'I've made a decision. Emily Fitch will be the first to die. But Naomi Campbell would follow very soon after'. Leaning back in her chair she smiled at her partners pleased expression, raising her glass in an ironic toast.

_**x-0-x** _

The fire marshal's office was next to the police station, basically a portacabin wedged between the garage and the main building. It was dwarfed by the buildings on either side, hunkering in their shadows as if trying to go unnoticed. Naomi parked her Jeep in the visitor's car park and walked around the side of the building to avoid meeting any officers. She had no real problem with the police, knew they performed an invaluable service just like the fire department. But on slow days the rivalry between departments became the sole source of entertainment for some people. And some people could act like arses.

She restrained a groan when she saw two plods heading her way across the car park, grinning when they recognized her. "Hey, Sparky!" one said. It was the police department's name for every firefighter in town.

"Hiya, Officer Dibble," she replied. Dibble, in return, was the fire department nickname for any and all cops.

The cop was unphased by the Top Cat reference. "Are you playing in the footie tournament this year? Always interested in adding some eye candy to the teams."

She rolled her eyes as they crossed paths and said, "Mm, not this year, Charlie."

"Come on, Sparky! It's for the sick kids in Alder Hey!"

She smiled and shrugged her shoulders carrying on her way to Martin's office. She knocked on the outside door and slid into the cluttered one-room extension. It seemed like more a paper storage room than actual office, with cardboard boxes and mountains of paper on every horizontal surface. Martin was in the centre of it all and looked up as she came in. He waved her into the office and said, "Have a seat. You didn't come through the building?"

"I went around back because I wanted to avoid as many coppers as possible... no offence."

He laughed and shook his head. "Ah, none taken. When you straddle the line between policeman and fireman, you find it difficult to side with one or the other. Unless one of them happens to be in the room with you." He stood and gestured at the coffee maker.

She smiled and said, "A cop with the cops and a firefighter with us. What are you when you're at home with your wife?"

"Casanova," he said. He winked and stood up. He gestured at the coffee maker and said, "Anything to drink?"

"No, I'm fine."

He poured a cup for himself and sipped it before he retook his seat. "I got my reports on those fires you and Tomone were asking about. Without a doubt, all three were arsons. Guy wasn't even trying to cover his tracks."

Naomi leaned forward and took three of the files from the top stack of his desk. "So you're thinking it was the same guy all three times?"

"Pretty sure. Had a lot of the same characteristics. He liked to build little bonfires, pour gas all over them. Didn't worry too much about leaving a trail of accelerant, neither." He motioned for the file she was looking at and she handed it back. "Have you seen the building Freddie McClair and Effy Stonham were in yet?"

"No."

"This is killer." He leaned forward and framed a square with his hands. "The guy, this arsonist, cuts the rafters to weaken the roof, right? If McClair and Stonham had fallen here, here or here," he pointed to different portions of the roof on the schematic, "they would have hit the top floor. Cement, reinforced, they'd be dead or paralysed. And if they were paralysed..."

"They would've burned to death."

"Precisely. But since they fell where they did..." He showed her another series of photographs. "The building originally had an open-air lobby. All three floors looked out over it, so it was a wide-open space. When they fell, they landed on a huge pile of furniture the tenants left behind and the scroungers hadn't gotten to yet."

Naomi frowned. "Why did a warehouse have a lobby?"

"It wasn't a warehouse," he said. "More like a factory. They made, as far as I can tell, a lot of empty boxes."

Naomi leaned back in her chair. "So it's not just abandoned warehouses any more. It's pretty much any building designed by Moore."

"Or her father," Martin pointed out. "Did some reading up on that family. Weird stuff... did you know they all have two names?"

"What do you mean?"

"Russian and English both. Our friend Sophia is known at home as Sophia Marusya . Moore is her 'public name.' Lady I spoke to said she got bent outta shape if you tried to call her 'Sophie.'"

She nodded. "Yeah, we saw that when we were at her office."

"Oh, yeah, the handshake thing," Martin said smiling thinly. "She did get a little perturbed, didn't she?"

"She was pissed," Naomi corrected. "Maybe something you ought to keep in mind if you have to interrogate her about something."

Martin smirked. "I like the way you think. Keep her on edge, make her angry."

"Getting back to the buildings... Have you found any more traps in the latest buildings other than the cut rafters?"

"You mean more flashover rooms like the ones that killed Jones and hurt Cook? No, none of the rooms in the third building showed signs of that. I looked over the room that killed Jones, by the way. It was hugely bad. Was anyone in there with him? Like a partner or something? You guys do that two-in, two-out arrangement, right?"

Naomi felt her back tense. "Yes, there was someone in with him," she said flatly. "Why?” she stalled, needing to know, but not wanting to know. “Are they responsible for what happened?"

Martin shrugged. "No, not really. I mean, the signs of flashover are obvious. But you can get distracted in a fire and you miss what was obvious in training. I was asking more because this report said another firefighter went in behind Jones. I was wondering how the hell that person managed to survive. Seems impossible to me."

"Me too," Naomi said softly. She tapped the files against her thigh and then held them up. "Do you mind if I take these?"

"No, they're copies anyway. I have a couple more in the cabinet over there." He nodded at the opposite end of the room and then looked down at his desk. "Or... here. Ah, they're somewhere."

"Okay. Thanks, Bill."

"No problem, Naomi. And by the way?" She turned around. "A single Sparky has more class than a roomful of Dibbles."

Naomi grinned and saluted him before she left.

_**x-0-x** _

Effy Stonham sat on the exam bed, waiting as Emily updated her chart. "Okay. That should take care of you for the time being. You can come back in for a check-up in a month or so, just to make sure everything is still going well. You may experience headaches, stomach ache, breast tenderness, vaginal spotting of blood and dizziness... and your monthly visitor might not show up on the right date." She closed the file and said, "I'd really feel better sending this over to your doctor.."

"But I appreciate you keeping it quiet, Dr. Fitch."

"I don't like being a party to covering up an affair," Emily said. She rose from her stool and walked across the exam room. "But you're my patient and as much as it irritates me... I couldn't say anything without your permission."

Effy smiled ruefully. "Well, to be honest, Doctor, you can't exactly know what I'm going through here."

Emily frowned and leaned against the counter. "How so?"

"Well... you know, you and Campbell don't exactly... I mean, the problem of contraceptives isn't really high on your list of things to worry about."

"I may not understand an unwanted pregnancy, but I do understand monogamy. What you did to your poor fiancé... I can't even begin to imagine what that man is going through. Or what he would be going through, if he found out about this."

"You're forgetting that he can't imagine what I went through, Dr. Fitch. McClair held me as we went through hell. I may have taken a ring from someone else, but Freddie McClair understands me in a way someone outside the department never could." She glanced at the window and hesitated, as if debating whether or not to say the next bit. Finally, she said, "And I'm sorry, but unless you and Naomi are fooling yourselves, you should admit you're in the same boat."

"I understand Naomi," Emily said. She kicked herself as soon as she said it. She sounded defensive even to herself.

Effy shook her head. "Not the way another firefighter could. It's like we're soldiers and, when we come home, everyone pretends to know what it was like on the battlefield. But no one can. Not unless they were there with their life on the line."

Emily checked her watch and said, "I have another patient, so if you're done theorising...?"

Effy gathered her jacket and slipped off the table. "I'm not saying you don't love each other. I still love my fiancé. I'm just saying that you need to either admit that you'll never entirely understand one another or end it now before anyone gets hurt."

_**x-0-x** _

Emily said nothing, holding the door as Effy stepped outside. She followed her into the corridor and watched as she waited for the lift. Her mind flashed back, reminding her of the moment etched in her memory... the way they'd hunkered down in a closet, the way her sister's face hovered over her like a ghost in the darkness. She remembered the insane heat, the almost unbearable heat as her back blistered and scarred.

She remembered the process of debridement, a fancy word for the torture she'd gone through. She had wept, lying face-down on the table while nurses peeled away layers of dead skin. The long soaks in the tub, the unbelievable pain... she had always thought pain ended when the fire was out, had never dreamt it continued for so long afterward.

The woman who held her hand during the procedure was named Nancy. She had dark hair and lips so red. When she was discharged from the hospital, it was Nancy who pushed her wheelchair out to the parking lot. Sitting on the curb with the nurse, her back numb and foreign under her sweater, she had hugged Nancy and thanked her. They both cried, Nancy saying she was sorry for Emily's sister. Years later, Emily would pinpoint that as the moment she decided to become a doctor.

As Effy stepped into the lift, Emily snapped out of her reverie and said, "Naomi and I understand each other. We understand better than you'll ever know, Ms. Stonham." She looked down at her watch again and headed off to meet with her next patient.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi sat in the den and read Martin's files on the arsons. Petrol used in all of the blazes, used to ignite piles and piles of junk. All of the buildings were abandoned, which, in that section of town, was hardly surprising. As she read, Cook and Sawyer walked in, talking about some football game. Sawyer carried with him a constant cloud of cigar smoke, a trait that never failed to remind her of her own father. "Hey, guys."

"Are you watching the Everton game?" Sawyer asked.

Naomi looked at the dark television set, looked at Sawyer and then replied, "Take a wild guess, my friend."

"Mind if I..."

"Go right ahead," she told him and went back to her reading.

Sawyer grabbed the remote and dropped onto the couch next to McClair. He lifted his boot and rested it on the edge of the table. He made sure whatever game he wanted to watch was at half time before he looked over at her. "What're you reading?"

"Some of the fire marshal's reports on these arsons."

"Does he think they're related?" McClair asked.

Naomi nodded.

"Hot damn," Sawyer said. "Fire bug, right here in our own damn town. Tell you what we oughta do with these arsonists is just tie up their hands and legs and just toss them into the next big fire we have. Give 'em a taste of what they want." He sipped his drink, watching the second half of the game on the screen kick off.

McClair nodded at Naomi, trying to get her attention. He dropped his voice and said, "So, uh... everything... taken care of?"

"Yeah, it's all good last I heard."

McClair exhaled and said, "Look, you know that I didn't..."

"It's all good," Naomi interrupted. She motioned at Sawyer with her head, even though he was still engrossed with the football game on TV.

McClair smirked and said, "Hey, I slept with Effy last night. It was a mistake, so Campbell's doctor girlfriend helped smooth things over for me."

Sawyer took a sip of his drink.

Turning back to Naomi, McClair said, "He's like Rain Man with Everton, man. Turn on a game and he turns into, like, a brain-damaged monkey."

Sawyer slapped McClair on the back of the head. “ I heard that numb nuts, the games been stopped for an injury”.

Naomi grinned and turned her attention back to the files on her lap. There had to be a way to connect Moore to the fires other than just the fact that she designed them. It was circumstantial at best and any good solicitor would destroy it before they got within spitting distance of a court room. The fact that Moore had brought the information to them herself made it look even more ridiculous.

She yawned and rearranged herself on the cushions. It was going to be a long night and she planned to stay awake long enough to find any hint that they were on the right trail.

_**x-0-x** _

Sophia walked into her dark apartment to the music of a ringing phone. Dumping her briefcase and coat, she grabbed the phone and said, "Sophia Moore."

Her secretary began speaking rapidly, out of breath and whispering. "Ms. Moore, that fire marshal is here again. He wants to talk to you about..."

"I know what he wants to talk about, Sandra. It's why I'm not there. Just tell him that I'm out for the day... hell, for the rest of the week. I don't wish to be disturbed until next Monday. Tell him that; I'm sure he'd understand."

"But Ms. Moore, he's like the police..."

"I know that, my dear. But at the moment, I'm merely someone who... interests Mr. Martin. He can't drag me in without accusing me of a crime. So, for the moment, I am incommunicado. Whatever he wishes to speak with me about will keep until Monday."

"Yes, Ms. Moore."

She hung up on her, taking her jacket off and groaning wearily. Her name Sophia Moore grated on her; the ups and downs of the business world, the posturing and the grand-standing, all that unsightly carrying on... she didn't know how her father had done it. She walked through the apartment, shedding her Oxford shirt and standing in her bra and skirt in front of the picture window in her living room.

Anfield was a small part of Liverpool and it was hers. The Moore name stood proudly on dozens of buildings in the small area that surrounded her. But none of them were Marusya. She felt a deep regret that her grandfather's name would soon be forgotten, a footnote in the family history books. Towards the end, she remembered her father responding more and more to the name Arthur, his correspondence arriving addressed to Arthur Moore rather than his traditional name.

The old man had grown weak in his later years. It still saddened her to remember her father's steady decline into dementia. It was never easy to watch a family member succumb to such a nasty disease.

With the lights still off, she walked across the room and looked at the city map she had pinned to the work table. Tonight, she was going to go off her routine. Tonight, she would not only burn a building that was still thriving, her target would be another's design. She hated that; it would be the same as setting fire to someone else's child. Sophia Marusya was many things, but a murderer? She sighed. She had made her choice, told her partner and they'd agreed. She couldn't go back now. They had to do what was necessary.

Yes, she thought, after tonight, she would be a cold blooded murderer. Without a doubt.

She dressed slowly, picking her clothing carefully. She would need the maximum protection from the heat she would be experiencing. She had an oxygen mask, a hood and gloves... It was another departure for her; she would be remaining in this fire, meeting her partner there later. It was her piece-de-resistance, the final piece of her little puzzle.

She put everything she needed to carry into a duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder. She stepped into the corridor wearing her ratty sweatshirt and jeans. Sophia Moore was still in the apartment; tonight, Sophia Marusya was being released from her prison. An unfair incarceration, lasting her entire life and ending tonight. She could almost feel her tongue adapting, wrapping around its natural accent.

Yes, tonight would be different. Tonight was the final piece.

Let Martin come and ask his questions whenever he wanted. After tonight, Sophia Moore, Emily Fitch and Naomi Campbell would all be far too dead to ever answer.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi was forced to put down Martin's reports when the alarms started just before midnight, following Sawyer and McClair to their trucks. Sawyer whooped out that he hoped McClair didn't choke on his fumes when he left him in the dust. Cook settled into his seat in the front of the cab and complained that Holt had left the seat all sweaty. He swore to never leave the company again, which was greeted with a groan from everyone riding with him.

Naomi was strapping her helmet in place as the radio blurted out the fire location. She spun in her seat and stared wide-eyed at the radio. She had to have heard wrong. "What did they just say?" she said, shouting to be heard over the engines and McClair's whooping.

"Chancellor Court," Cook told her. "Shee-it, I've been there. The alleys are thin as hell on either side of the blocks. Tons of cars on either side of the entry street... this is gonna be a fucking nightmare."

Naomi didn't need Cook's commentary on the streets around Chancellor Court. She remembered it very clearly from a few nights before. It was Emily's building.


	15. To Live and Die in a Blaze of Glory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technical thing in this chapter, A-Triple-F is a type of foam we use on petrol/gas spills.

Emily walked across her silent living room and pushed open the window, a wave of cool air washing over her. She leaned on the sill and put her face against the screen to peer down towards the street. Cars lined both sides of the small entry road, restricting late-night travellers to a single lane. A few penumbras of light stretched forth from the lobbies of the other buildings in her complex, street lights standing proudly in their own orbits of pale yellow.

A man, no, woman in a green jumpsuit was meandering along the pavement in front of her building, using a back-mounted sprayer to wash the leaves from the building's stoop. From open windows, she could hear her neighbours James and Teresa singing along with their radio. Classical opera. James, rotund and proud, was the neighbourhood Pavarotti.   
From the floor directly below her, a cat mewled for food from her owner.

Emily smiled and stepped away from the window, remembering the old Sesame Street tune: "These are the people in your neighbourhood."

She padded barefoot into the kitchen, humming the children's song, and turned on the light over the stove to check the levels of her cereal boxes. She spotted the dishes from her date with Naomi, still sitting unwashed in the sink, and smiled at the memory. It had been a long time since she'd had a night like that. She could barely remember the last one. The way Naomi had held her during the movie, the way they'd just seemed to fit together in one corner of the couch... the way they'd fit together later...

She sighed and grabbed a Lilt from the fridge, returning to the living room before popping the top. She wanted to call Naomi, wanted to see what was happening. She knew the firehouse could be boring some nights... maybe she'd relish a call. Of course, they did sleep at the firehouse... if they had already gone to bed, she would hate to wake her up.

As she twisted her arm to look at her watch, the sound of breaking glass echoed up from the street. She nearly dumped her drink as she stood up and rushed back to the window. She looked down at the street again in search of the vandal responsible. The pavement washer was nowhere in sight, but neither was anyone else. She scanned up and down both sides of the street twice and saw nothing that looked like a car thief or opportunistic teen.

She was about to call the management company when someone in the hall downstairs started yelling, "Fire! Fire, get out now! The building is on fire!"

She tied her robe around her waist, kicking herself for wearing only her pyjama bottoms and a vest top, and hurried for the door. Outside in the hall, she headed immediately for the stairs. Her bare feet slapped on the steps and her robe flew around her legs as she descended. She peered over the banister and saw her neighbours doing the same, the opera music still blaring from the second-floor apartment. She could see fire light flickering on the ground floor, dancing back and forth across the walls. "Oh, hell, there really is a fire," she muttered.

When she reached the second-floor landing, she was surprised to see someone heading up towards her. She wore a green jumpsuit and black gloves, her face covered with an oxygen mask. She was confused until she saw the big semi-transparent tank on his back, the liquid inside sloshing back and forth in time with her ascent. The pavement washer. What the hell...? "Did you see what happened?" she asked.

"Building's on fire," the woman said. Something about her voice... almost familiar. She had a vaguely Russian accent, but she couldn't think of anyone that matched the nationality.

"Why are you going up? Is someone trapped up there?"

"No," the woman said, looking at her through the glass of her oxygen mask. "But there will be in a moment."

Before she could question what she meant, her gloved fist impacted her just below her rib cage and knocked the air from her lungs. Emily started to collapse into herself, winded and the tall woman ducked down, pressing her shoulder against her soft belly.

Hoisting her onto one shoulder like a bag of laundry, Sophia carried her back the way she'd come. In the lobby below, the little bonfire she'd made began to spread. She heard the familiar buzzing of a fire alarm and smiled. Phases one and two were complete. Time to start phase three.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi's heart raced as they sped through familiar streets towards Emily's apartment. 'That's where I bought her flowers,' she thought, turning to watch the florist shop speed by. "Hey," Effy said softly. Naomi turned to look at her, surprised to see wetness in the other woman's eyes. "I'm sure she's okay. Someone probably just left their stupid toaster on and unattended."

"I'll throttle the bastard if I got all dolled up for a fucking toaster" Freddie griped from the front seat.

"Take a number," Naomi smiled, glad for a bit of relief from the crushing pain growing in the centre of her chest. 'Emily will be fine. Emily will be fine. The odds of her being hurt are astronomical.'

A more pessimistic voice reminded her of the arsonist running around.

'An arsonist who has only torched empty warehouses. An arsonist who, if we're right, is only torching buildings designed by his own company.'

'So far...'

'This building is from the forties,' she returned. 'No possible connection to Moore or Marusya or whatever the hell her name is.'

The truck came to a halt between two rows of cars parked bumper-to-bumper. "Ain't these people heard of parking spaces? Pain in my arse..." Freddie said, easing the massive truck down the narrow lane. 

Miraculously, he avoided hitting any cars in the process and stopped in front of the Chancellor Court complex. Swinging the door open, he stood on the runner and shook his head. "Oh, mama. No one can tell me this isn't arson. Smell that? Whoo... smells like a petrol truck took a piss down this street."

Cook stood at the front of the truck, radio to his lips and talking to Tomone. "We're at the site now Tommo. Visible fire in the lobby of one of the Chancellor blocks. Preparing an entrance to extinguish and then doing a door-to-door search to find and evac the residents. Advise, over."

Freddie quirked his lips as he walked all the way around one of the cars at the curb and onto the pavement. "Have to walk through a freakin' maze just to get to the back of the truck." His boots splashed on the concrete and he looked down, frowning. "Holy hell, man. Yo, Cookie, did someone already try to put water on this thing?"

Cook half-turned, radio still to his lips, when it happened.

A bag landed on the pavement a few feet away from Freddie and burst on impact. The bag was on fire and, once it landed, so was the pool in which Freddie was standing almost ankle-deep.

"Holy shit," Cook breathed. "Freddie! The petrol is on the pavement!"

By the time the warning was spoken, it was too late. Freddie's boots and bunker pants were aflame. He screamed, back-pedalling towards the street as the fire surrounded his lower body. Effy and Naomi came around from the back of the truck, their progress stalled by the cars proximity to the side of the truck. After angling around one too many rear view mirrors, Naomi unhooked the axe from her belt and simply began chopping them off as she neared them.

As she passed the equipment rack, she yanked a fire extinguisher from its bed and jumped onto the bonnet of the last car in the row. She fell to her backside, sliding down the hood until her boots hit concrete. Cook had pulled Freddie to safety and was using his own coat to beat the flames spreading on Freddie's legs. "Oh, fuck," Effy said.

Naomi aimed the nozzle of the extinguisher and screamed Cook's name as a warning. The sandy haired firefighter stepped back, allowing her to coat Freddie's charred legs with the chemicals. She tossed the extinguisher to Cook and turned, looking over the building. Nothing but empty, dark windows. The lobby seemed abandoned, but that didn't mean a damn thing. "Do you see anyone?" she demanded. When Effy refused to answer, still staring wide-eyed at the screaming Freddie, Naomi grabbed her collar and yanked her forward. "Do you see anyone?" she asked again.

"No, there are no residents visible," Cook said, coughing into his glove. "And we're staying put until the boss can get here."

"Firemen!" a voice across the street called. "Firemen!"

Naomi and Effy raced over, zeroing in on a rotund man in a button-down shirt and boxer shorts. "This fire... oh, hell, how the hell did the street get on fire? Is that fireman okay?"

"Is there anyone still in the building?" Naomi asked, ignoring the man's questions. She was scanning the crowd for Emily's face, praying she was somewhere in the back.

"I haven't seen the young woman from the top floor. She's a doctor, I think..."

Naomi felt something seize inside of her as she turned, eyes drawn to the top apartment. She started across the street, but Effy stopped her. "We can't get in there until this pavement fire is out. And Cook says we're not making a move until the chief and the engine can get here."

"Where are they?" Naomi demanded.

"He's not sure."

Naomi pulled away from Effy and stormed to the end of the truck. Effy trailed her. "Naomi, we have to fall back. We have to be with Cook when..."

"You can sit with Cook and Freddie," Naomi interrupted as she unhooked the collapsible ladder from the side panel. It could be extended up to fifteen feet, but was now only about five feet long; easily manageable by one person. "I have to go," Naomi said, hoisting the ladder onto her shoulder. "I have to do this. Listen, Cook should've told you this and if anyone asks, he did alright? Get the A-Triple-F down on this pavement, get this fucking pavement extinguished. Elizabeth! Do you hear me?"

"Yeah... what? You have to do what?" Effy asked, trailing Naomi. They were walking away from the Spring Creek Apartments. "What the hell are you going to do with a fifteen-foot ladder?! The fire is back that way! NAOMI"

Naomi ignored her and silently thanking the endless drills where she'd been forced to lug a thirty-footer the equivalent of nine flights of stairs. The metal clanged noisily next to her head, banging on her helmet, but it was barely even noticeable. As she approached the neighbouring apartment block, she saw that the pool of petrol ended well before the front door of this building. No doubt about the target here... making her all the more certain as to the culprit.

Moore would pay.

_**x-0-x** _

The wind was knocked out of her lungs as she was tossed onto the bed. She bounced off the mattress and fell to the floor in a heap. An instant later, the large woman was on top of her and dragging her across the carpet until her head impacted the wall. "Please," she gasped, trembling as she hooked her hands under the petite redheads armpits and dragged her into a sitting position. "Please, whatever you're going to do, please..."

"Shut up," she sighed.

She grabbed her wrists and fastened a pair of handcuffs to them. "Stay right there and I won't have to hurt you," she said in that weird accent. She moved back to the bedroom door. Emily tested the handcuffs, tugging on them to test the chain while casting anxious glances at the door. Who the hell was this woman? Her mind raced, trying to place her. She seemed so vaguely familiar... the woman she'd stood next to in the laundry room, the woman on the corner who always seemed to buy her coffee at the same time she did, the woman...  
The woman next to her in the lift, the one with the new baseball cap on; that was her.

She got onto her knees and crawled over her bed, searching the night stand for her mobile phone. She had just found it when the woman returned. "Please, no..."

She shoved her roughly back and grabbed the phone when it tumbled onto the mattress. The tall woman checked the display screen and then hurled the phone at the wardrobe door. She hit the floor and crawled into the corner where she'd originally put her, praying she didn't punish her. "Where's your lighter?"

"What?" she asked.

"Your lighter," she sighed. "I brought everything but the fucking lighter."

"T-the kitchen... one of the drawers in the kitchen..."

She grabbed her by the handcuff chain and pulled Emily towards her, half-dragging and half-carrying the petite doctor behind her. Emily gasped when she realized her destination. The closet. She began to fight him, pulling with both hands to hold herself back. "No!"

"You're a fucking trouble-maker. Get in there."

Her sister's face flashed in front of her, the smoke, the heat, her back aflame... "No! I can't go in there, please."

The stranger paused, seemingly having a conversation with herself internally, then looked down at her, sighed and shoved her backwards again. "Fine." She jabbed a finger in Emily's face "Sit. Do not move or I WILL kill you."

She squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head frantically. "Just don't make me go in there. Please."  
With a heavy sigh, she turned and walked from the room. Emily crawled into the corner, covering her face with both trembling hands.

_**x-0-x** _

Naomi carried the ladder into the building and ran up the stairs. The floors were all deserted, the residents most likely scrambling down to the street for safety. As she passed the third floor, a bare-chested man in sweatpants nearly ran her down. "What's with all the damn sirens?"

"Your building is on fire," she lied. "Get out. Now."

"Aww, shit, man, my weed."

Naomi rolled her eyes and grabbed his shoulder, shoving him towards the stairs. The druggie stumbled, but started his descent anyway.

At the top landing, she shouldered her way through the emergency fire door and set off an ear-ringing alarm. She ignored it, grabbing the ladder with both hands and carrying it like a lance as she ran across the roof. The alley between the two buildings was way too small for a ground ascent. But it was more than enough for a ladder to bridge the gap.

"Campbell?!" Tomone's voice made her jump, coming from the radio nestled between her bunking coat and her shirt. "What in the hell... What..."

She grabbed her radio and said, "I'm sorry, Tommo." The only other thing she could think to say was, "I couldn't not."

With that, she silenced her radio and continued her mission.

She rested the ladder on the lip of the building, extending the sections until it rested on the edge of Emily's building. She was panting, her arms and legs trembling as she crawled from one side to the other. Once on the roof of Emily's building, Naomi pulled off her helmet and yanked the hoodie up over her head, leaving only her face exposed. Her breathing apparatus mask covered that, protecting her from the heat. She only prayed Emily had something protecting her, knowing how terrified the woman must be. Equipment in place, she re-grabbed her ladder, dragging it to her location and trotted across the roof until she found what she was looking for.

Emily's skylight.

Grabbing the ladder with both hands, she rammed the sloped glass grunting with the effort. The ladder shattered the toughened glass on the third strike and sank into the dark room like a knife into a wound. She felt it hit something and peered down through the thick black-gray smoke. Angling the ladder until she felt it wedge against what she assumed was the couch, she stepped back and used her axe to clear a bigger hole in the skylight.

She mounted the ladder and slowly lowered herself into the apartment. Once on the ground, the entertainment centre caught her eye. The same TV where they'd watched that sweet movie about the crazy bridesmaids... well, most of the movie, anyway... Emily had almost fallen asleep in her arms right here... right here.  
'Worry about that later,' she chided herself. She turned and scanned the living room. Smoke trickled across the ceiling of the entry hall, hesitantly spreading towards the living room and kitchen. The front door stood wide open, the hallway outside a vivid portrait of hell. Fire was on the stairs, quickly rising to pay a visit to the topmost resident. The smoke had already covered the ceiling, darkening every bright surface and leaving a thick cloud above her head.

Dropping into a crouch, she navigated the living room and felt along the floor. She banged her arms against the legs of chairs, against corners of a desk, into the wall. She couldn't find anything, could barely see now. The smoke was getting thicker. She found the hallway door, knowing it led to the bedroom. It branched off from the entry hall, mere inches from the open door.

She reached up as she passed, pushing the front door shut. With the skylight open, she knew it wouldn't be long before the fire sniffed out a new source of oxygen and came knocking. "Emily?" she called, one hand on the wall next to her to guide her way. "Emily, can you hear me?"

Her voice, filtered through her breathing mask, didn't carry very far. She passed the bathroom, kicking herself for not bringing the thermal imager, and crawled past. The smoke around her was a wool blanket now, the air almost certainly not breathable. If Emily were still here... if she were still conscious...

She put that thought out of her mind and moved forward. "Emily!" she called again. Still no reply.  
The bedroom door was closed and she had an image of Emily, asleep in bed, slowly enveloped in smoke and gases until...

She did a quick scan of the door frame and saw no signs of a flashover, put the back of her hand against the wood and felt no signs of heat beyond. She turned the knob and pushed the door open, entering the bedroom on her hands and knees. Emily's bed was empty, the covers pulled taut over the mattress indicating she hadn't been to bed yet.

Could she have been in the living room? Had she somehow missed...?

There! A muffled sound, like a voice. She moved across the room and crawled around the bed. There on the floor, between the night stand and the bed frame, Emily looked up at her with wide, terrified eyes. Her mouth was wrapped in a wet rag that also covered her nose; not the best protection against smoke and carbon monoxide, but definitely better than nothing.

Naomi knelt by her and touched her lover's soot-covered face, gently brushing her hair away from her eyes. "We're going to get you out of here, okay?"

Emily lifted both hands - they were bound by handcuffs - pawed at her mouth.

"No, honey, we need to keep that on... its helping you breathe." She helped Emily out of the corner and said, "Stay low... hands and knees. Just stay with me and I'll get you out of here." She looked around and whispered, "Is Moore still here? Tall woman, bit bigger than me?"

Emily nodded, tears in her eyes.

"Okay, we'll get out of here before she even knows I got you. Okay? Come on, I'll lead the way, just follow me."

They got onto their hands and knees and quick-crawled out of the bedroom. The front door of the apartment was now a rectangle of firelight. If Naomi hadn't closed the door, the entry hall would likely have been in flames by now, cutting off their only point of egress.

As she crawled past the open bathroom door, she heard Emily cry out behind her. She misinterpreted the sound and turned to look back... missing the tall shape that stepped out from the bathroom like the spectre of some dark nightmare.

Sophia reared her foot back and buried her boot in Naomi's stomach. She rose a few inches with the impact and rolled to one side with a cough. Moore planted several more kicks to her torso before she stepped forward and slammed her foot down on Naomi's face. The oxygen mask cracked, but didn't shatter.

"Your irons!" Moore shouted through her own oxygen mask. She held up a gun so that she could see it, even in the dying light, and repeated, "Remove your irons!"

At the madwoman's mercy, Naomi unhooked her axe and halligen tool and tossed them both across the hall. "How in the hell are you planning to get out of here, Sophie-Bob's?" she asked.

"The name is Sophia," she replied, his voice now heavily accented. "You will show proper respect!"

"You're a moron, Sophie-Bob," Naomi said. "We're all going to die right here. Was that your plan?"

"Yes," Emily gasped, the wet cloth around her neck. She was sobbing openly now, her hands between her knees. "She's sacrificing himself to kill you, Naomi!"

Naomi couldn't believe her ears. "Why?!"

"To live and die in a blaze of glory... to have the flames carry me from this life. It is the death you have been seeking Naomi. The memorial to which you will always be remembered. This building will serve as our tombstone, Naomi. You, a fallen firefighter... braving this inferno to save the one you love? You will go down in history, Naomi. Perhaps they will write a song about you one day."

She raised the gun and shrugged, then started shaking her head.

"Or... perhaps not." The gun lowered slightly.

“No, no I will not listen to you any more” The tall woman’s free hand came up and hit herself in the head. 

“No. You had your chance. You are weak, she never wanted you. We are taking over this weak body now, we will rise again. She must die”. The gun rose unwavering.

"No!" Emily cried.

Marusya, now asserting her personality fully, hesitated, moving the gun slightly before she turned to look at Emily. "You are an innocent. Perhaps I will allow you escape... I have no issue with you once Naomi is dead and gone."

"The ladder is in the living room," Naomi said to Emily, not moving her eyes from Marusya's oxygen mask. "Pull it up after you and use it to crawl to the building next door."

"No!" Emily repeated. "I'm not leaving you!"

"Such loyalty. Perhaps if Naomi is not physically able to go..." Marusya said. "Perhaps you would leave her then?"

They didn't have time to consider what he was asking. Marusya changed the angle of her shot slightly and fired. Naomi howled in anguish and grabbed her left thigh with both hands. "Go." Marusya said. "Go or it will be as if you fired the weapon yourself." She fired again and Naomi's body jerked. She had hit the same leg, this time closer to the bone. Naomi was instinctively twitching on the floor, her body curled into the foetal position.

Marusya looked at Emily and shrugged. "Well, Naomi. It would appear as though your girlfriend is as stubborn as you are. You know all you had to do was go on a date with stupid Sophia. I didn't want you, you are beneath me." She turned the gun and said, "I will do you a favour... release you from your misery and save you from a fiery death with one small bullet."

"Do it," Naomi said hoarsely. "Just... let her go."

"Such loyalty," she repeated.

"Please," Naomi all but sobbed.

Marusya sighed and said, "If you are going to beg..." She cocked the hammer and said, "Good-bye, Naomi."  
The next sound Naomi heard was Marusya's howl of pain. Opening her eyes, she saw Emily pulling the bloody halligen away from Marusya's arm, the claw-hammer end dripping with blood. She adjusted her grip and swung the three-pronged tool once more, burying the blade this time in the soft flesh of Marusya's stomach. The blow knocked her back and something cracked as she slammed against the bathroom door. She slumped, her hands trembling as they wrapped around the tool embedded in her gut.

Emily placed her makeshift mask back over her face and quickly checked the fallen woman was still breathing, her medical training taking over before she turned to Naomi. "Are you hurt? Can you..."

"My leg... Oh, fuck, Emily..."

Emily looked down. The left leg of Naomi's bunker pants was dark red, the spatter on the wallboard behind her indicating that at least one bullet had gone out the other side. "It hurts so much," Naomi breathed.

"I won't leave you," Emily swore. "Come on." She knelt and got Naomi's arm around her shoulder and pulled the heavier woman up. They moved at a crouch towards the living room, the flow of sweat on Emily's face starting up again as if someone had turned on a tap. Naomi was like a dead weight, her left boot scraping behind her like a dead weight.

"Y'can't... lee me... here," Marusya gasped. They turned to look at her, at the blood trailing from her mouth like drool pooling underneath her mask. Her eyes were wide and glassy. 

"To live and die in fire," Naomi managed to say. "It's time for the dying part, you sick fucker."

They turned, leaving Marusya alone in the hall. "There's a ladder coming out of my skylight," Emily said as they inched towards the couch.

"Yeah," Naomi said. "I like to make an entrance on the third date."

"Fifth date," Emily laughed, coughing a bit into her mask. They stopped at the foot of the ladder and stared up at the night sky through the jagged hole in the skylight. "Naomi, are you going to be able to do this?"

"Yes," Naomi said. "Definitely." She put a hand on Emily's backside and pushed her forward. "You go. I'll follow you."

Emily hesitated, cupping Naomi's head with both hands. Through the hood, the helmet, her mask and everything between them, they looked at each other. "Come up after me," Emily whispered, "I will not leave this building until you are with me, do you understand? I cannot leave without you."

Naomi clutched Emily's neck and bumped her oxygen mask to the petite woman’s face. "Go. I'm stubborn, but I'm not suicidal. Go. I'll be right behind you. I just don't want to fall on you if it takes me more than one try."

"Okay," Emily said. She turned and gripped the ladder, taking the rungs much faster than Naomi thought she would. When she was at the top, she turned and gripped the highest rung with both hands. "Okay, Naomi. Hurry!"

She grabbed the highest rung she could, lifting her right leg and placing it on the lowest. The heel of her boot caught the rung and held her foot in place. Good. Good. Excellent. She exhaled and looked up; the ladder was suddenly a mile long, stretching up towards Mars or Saturn or God. She couldn't do it, she wouldn't make it, there was no way with one leg...

_'It's okay. We didn't expect a woman to do as good as the guys, anyway.'_

The voice was loud and clear, echoing in her helmet as if it had been broadcast over the radio. Chief Training Officer Al Shannon, prick extrodinaire. He hadn't wanted a female in the training academy. Thought she would lower the curve, let a lot of sub-par male candidates into the department. 'Hell in a hand basket,' had been his phrase of choice. Using both hands and neither leg, Naomi pulled herself up.

_'Need some help, sweetheart?'_

She reached up, her arm trembling, gritting her teeth as she reached for another rung. The heat was unbearable. Her uniform hung on her like an anchor, the oxygen tank on her back gripping her shoulders as if it was actively trying to pull her back into the apartment. The night sky surrounding Emily's anxious face looked so inviting...

_'I'll just give your firm arse a little push, how's that, darlin'?'_

Crying out, she went up another rung. She lifted her right foot, her left foot banging uselessly against the metal ladder.

"Please, Naomi!" Emily cried from above.

One hand up, hold tight. Don't fall. Pull...

Hold tight, next hand up. Lift leg, drag leg... oh, God, her shoulders burned, her back was on fire, wasn't it? She couldn't breathe, couldn't see, her lungs were on fire... something was pulling on her, oh, God, someone had grabbed her jacket with both hands! Marusya was alive and she was pulling her...

Up?

"Please!" Emily sobbed. One hand was balled into a fist around Naomi's jacket, pulling on her like she was a rag doll. They both fell to the roof, the smoke billowing out of the hole behind Naomi. They clung to each other, Naomi on top of her on the simmering roof, both of them rasping, staring at each other through the fogged glass of Naomi's oxygen mask. "You're out!" Emily said, her muffled voice high-pitched and almost frantic.

"Get the ladder!" Naomi said, forcing herself up onto her one good leg. Emily struggled with the ladder, using one hand in an awkward manner, eventually pulling it up rung-by-rung as if it was climbing her. The ladder stretched fifteen feet above her head and fell backwards, hitting the roof with a loud 'clank!'

Naomi pointed to the edge of the building and Emily got to her feet, dragging the ladder to where it needed to be. Naomi hopped along after, her left leg now completely useless, meeting Emily at the edge. "Oh, God," Emily breathed, looking down.

The neighbourhood was now completely awash in yellow, white and red lights, flickering and flashing and dancing on the brick walls all around them, figures running around in organised chaos. Naomi was panting, weak in every sense of the word, looking at the ladder that was their last hurdle before freedom. She pulled off her helmet, yanked her mask off and dropped it onto the roof. "Emily," she said, her voice hoarse.

Emily looked at her, saw the oxygen mask was off and removed her own mask. Her hair was wild, her face dark with soot. "Where did your handcuffs go?"

Emily lifted both hands, revealing the cuffs were still intact and locked... only they both hung from her right wrist. The thumb on her left hand, however, looked like a slab of rubber someone had tacked on with crazy glue. “Got them off as you climbed the ladder”. She'd dislocated her own thumb to get out of the restraints, Naomi winced at the thought. "We don't have much time," she said. "Do you go first?"

"You go first," Naomi said.

"Because you don't want me to see if you fall to your death?" Emily asked, eyes gleaming with tears.

Naomi touched Emily's face, smearing soot with the palm of her gloves. "I love you."

"You proved that tonight," Emily said, gripping Naomi's forearm. She unhooked the oxygen tank hanging from Naomi's back and dropped it onto the ground before going after the buttons of her bunker coat.

"Are you molesting me?" Naomi asked, smiling weakly.

"Still have your sense of humour," Emily said with a smile. When her coat was gone, Emily said, "Your full kit. How much does it weigh?"

"Fifteen kilos... give or take..."

"Good Lord," Emily breathed. Leaving the pants but emptying the pockets, Emily said, "Okay. Get on the ladder. Hands and knees." Naomi did as she said, her left leg sticking out as she couldn't bend the knee, and peered down at the filthy alley below. Water was running through it like a river, meaning that her colleagues were hard at work below. Emily was now on top of her, arms on either side of her head, gripping the edges of the ladder. "Push with your right foot. Climb with your hands like you're climbing a regular ladder."

Sweat dripped from Naomi's face as she did as Emily suggested. Push, grip with one hand and then the other. It was slow going, but Emily was right behind her whispered, "Good... just a little more, good, good, we're getting there, baby..."

When Naomi fell onto the neighbouring roof, a sense of euphoria washed over her. She rolled onto her back, opening her arms as Emily came off the ladder behind her. "You did it," Emily said.

Naomi rose onto her elbows and kissed Emily, long and hard, before rolling onto her side. "We still have four flights of stairs to get down. Help me up?"

She put an arm around Emily and called for help on the long forgotten radio attached to her shirt as they slowly limped back to the stairwell door. Adrenaline faded as they headed down and the pain in Naomi's leg slowly became unbearable. Her entire pants leg was sodden red, her foot leaving a wet and bloody trail in its wake. With every step, she felt the blood pooling in her boot. The pain was unmistakable, but she didn't want to think about what this injury meant to her life, her career... she tightened her arm around Emily and closed her eyes as they stepped out into the cold night air.

Paramedics descended on them as they entered the command area. The entire middle lane of the street was now filled with fire trucks, dozens of faceless firefighters weaving in and out between their vehicles. The street looked like a plate of spaghetti, hose lines lying on top of each other, piled on top of each other, almost sinking in a sea of water.

The paramedics helped Emily and Naomi walk all the way to the corner, loading them into the waiting ambulance where they were each stretched out onto gurneys. An oxygen mask was fitted over Emily's face, her eyes rotating weakly until she focused on the woman lying next to her. Two of the paramedics had cut away the leg of Naomi's pants and were working on the bullet wounds.

Naomi turned her head slowly, eyelids hanging heavily. Her eyes were the brightest part of her entire body, almost painfully blue against her soot- and smoke-smeared face. She smiled lazily behind her oxygen mask and reached out, opening and closing her gloved fingers in a grabbing gesture. Emily reached out and grabbed it, squeezing as tight as she could.

She heard someone say, "We have to get her to a hospital," before slamming the doors of the ambulance shut. The same someone said, "We're losing her."

They were halfway to the Royal Liverpool Hospital when Naomi's grip weakened and her hand dropped away from Emily's.


	16. Epilogue

When Emily next opened her eyes, her trolley was being led down a very familiar corridor. She recognized the porter over her head, the doctor walking alongside her and the paramedic at her side. "Naomi," she gasped, weakly pawing at the rail and trying to roll onto her side.

"Take it easy, Dr. Fitch," the doctor said. "Just lie still."

"Where's Naomi?"

A quick glance at the paramedic, but Emily moved too slowly to see the responding gesture. The doctor said, "Don't worry about her right now. Okay? Just close your eyes and try to relax, okay?"

"Is she dead? Is Naomi dead?"

"We don't know much at the moment," the doctor said. Why couldn't she think of the man's name? Malcolm... something. Or was it Dr. Malcolm?

"I w-want..." Her words dissolved into coughs, her entire body shaking with the effort. Her throat felt raw, her lungs tightening in a vice. She breathed deeply, pushing her head back into the pillow and squeezing her eyes shut.

"Dr. Fitch, don't try to talk," Dr. Malcolm said.

It was a pointless admonition; she was already unconscious again.

_**x-0-x** _

Effy and Cook pushed their way through the charred black door, shining their flash-lights across the remnants of the living room. "Fire didn't spread too far here," Effy said, kicking the edge of the sofa. It seemed to have been smoked and charred, but not completely burnt.

"It didn't need to go looking for oxygen... Got a broken skylight here. Fire came in, took a deep breath of outside air and had a seat right where it was." Cook said. He walked towards the centre of the living room, lifting his boot when something cracked beneath it. "Broken glass on the ground... fire didn't blow this out."

"Cookie," Effy said from the back hall. "Got a body."

Cook back-tracked, joining her outside the bathroom. "Jesus," he breathed, kneeling down next to the black coal mummy. Her arms and legs had pulled in towards her chest, but the wall all around was splattered with blood. "Is that a halligen over there?" he asked.

"Looks like it," Effy replied, kneeling down and picking it up. "Blood all over it. Fire investigators will want to see this."

Cook stood and said, "Yeah. Let's get the rest of this junk cleared so we can get the hell out of here."

"This is where Campbell was heading."

"Yeah," Cook said. “Naom's had radioed in there was this psycho trying to kill them after they got out”.

"Do you think she's the one who killed this bitch?"

Cook shrugged. "Dunno. If not, I hope she got some licks in, at least. Serves the fucker right."

Effy carefully put the halligen back where she'd found it and followed Cook back into the living room to begin documenting what they had found.

_**x-0-x** _

The hyperbaric chamber was horrendous; a tight, glass tube that made her feel as if she were on display. Doctors milled around outside, speaking to each other in quiet voices about her. Many of them, she knew, were kick-starting the rumour mill. Huge fire, one of our own is a victim; fire fighter heroically saved her, etc. She would be a reluctant celebrity for the next few days, until the next big thing hit.

She hated the fact she needed this treatment. It'd been a week and her lungs were only just starting to properly recover from the superheated air she'd breathed in in her flat; burnt them from the inside despite her makeshift mask. Every now and then during treatment, pressure built up in her ears and she plugged her nose, exhaling as hard as she could. She wiggled her jaw, staring at the ceiling through her glass tomb. Eventually, she closed her eyes, moving only to pop her ears and ignoring everything else around her. All she wanted was Naomi. Why wouldn't anyone tell her where Naomi was?

_**x-0-x** _

Back on her trolley, on her way back to her room, she kept her eyes closed. They thought she was sleeping, thought she couldn't hear them.  
She only heard two words of their back-and-forth gossip; she'd been hearing it for a few days now.

'Dead fire fighter' it was all she needed to know. The reason no one would talk to her about Naomi.

_**x-0-x** _

When she was feeling up to it, Emily sat in the wheelchair they insisted she use and rolled herself over to the window. Her thumb had been reset, her burns treated. She'd seen enough of that damn hyperbaric chamber to last a lifetime, but she still found herself short of breath even after a trip to the bathroom. Dr. Malcolm had reassured her that the symptoms would fade but, if they persisted, to let him know and they'd take care of it.

She didn't talk, except to give information about her condition. A newspaper reporter called, but she hung up on him. She accepted no visitors, Cook and Tomone turned away despite Cooks loud protests that she was 'their doctor' and they needed to talk to her. She didn't need to be given 'the talk' dead fire fighters loved ones got by their colleagues. The one she knew JJ's family must have had from Tomone. She'd dealt with the police sure, but only the facts and a statement about her involvement with that crazy woman's death. The people checking in on her were ghosts, memories of faces that faded in and out of the room without her paying much attention. "A very lucky woman," they all said. Lucky to be alive, lucky to have escaped without any life altering serious injuries... very, very lucky. Yeah right. She still didn't know if she'd get charged for killing Sophia. 

Days weren't important. Nights hurt. She stared out the window, watching the blue sky and clouds and wondering why, today of all days, it wasn't raining. Her mood demanded dark rain clouds, torrential downpours, thunder filling her ears and lightning filling the sky. She got up, ignoring the stupid wheelchair and walked to the chair by the window, kneeling and curling up in a ball and looking out at the blasphemous sunshine outside. She hugged her knees to her chest, eyes flat, heart aching.

"Didn't you want to see me?" Naomi asked.

"I couldn't bear it," Emily said, closing her eyes against the voice in her head and fighting her tears. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't."

"Do you want me to go?"

Emily frowned and slowly looked over her shoulder. Naomi was sitting in the doorway, hunkering her tall lanky frame down as small as possible in a wheelchair. She was wearing a hospital gown, her left leg sticking out in front of her, sheathed in plaster. Her face was tortured, a bandage peeking out from under her blonde fringe. Heart pounding, Emily stood and stepped towards her and breathed, "You're alive?" Not daring to believe her blonde lover actually was alive after all.

Naomi wheeled into the room, looking confused. "Yes...?"

Emily hurried over, dropping to her knees in front of the wheelchair. She reached out, flattening her palm against Naomi's chest, sobbing when she felt the strong steady throb of her heartbeat. "They wouldn't... No one told me what happened. They said there was a dead fire fighter and I... didn't want to hear details so I stopped listening."

She frowned. "W-who was it then...?"

Naomi leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Emily's. "Freddie.."

"Oh," Emily sobbed, her voice cracking.

"No, babe, the Fredster's alive. But... it was touch-and-go for a while. His legs were burnt very badly; he's got an infection, everything that could go wrong..." She paused and chewed her bottom lip. "He'll... be better, though; eventually. And with enough physiotherapy, he'll be back on duty before too long."

Emily stood and leaned down, embracing Naomi and holding her as tightly as possible. Emily spoke into Naomi's shoulder. "I've been dead since I... since they said..."

"I thought you were mad at me... for bringing that woman into your life, for doing this. I spent all this time downstairs, enduring all this was easy. All I could think about was how it didn't matter if you were mad at me. And the thing that was killing me was that even I thought it was all my fault... and you... I understood if you didn't want to see me again."

"It wasn't your fault," Emily said. "And I love you so much."

Naomi closed her eyes, tears dripping onto Emily's hospital gown. "You're leaning on my leg."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry!" Emily laughed, released her. Wiping her cheeks, she said, "There's a lounge down the hall. I'm sure they'll let us use it if we want."

"Okay," Naomi said, stroking Emily's hair. "Do you wanna bum a ride?"

Emily laughed. "I would love to."

"Well, then, hop on munchkin," Naomi said. Emily gathered her robe around herself and sat on Naomi's lap, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"Is this okay? Is your leg...?" 

"My leg is fine." She stroked Emily's back and then shifted in the seat. "Dear Lord, you're heavy."

"Wuss," Emily said. She leaned down and nuzzled her lips behind Naomi's ear, chuckling quietly at the blondes shiver in response and laughing to herself over how her black depressed mood lifted in less than a second.

"Seriously, how can you weigh this much when your backside is so small and bony?"

Emily nibbled Naomi's ear and rested her head on the broad shoulder, "Shut up and drive, woman."

 

_**x-0-x** _

 

_Early the following summer..._

Emily walked into the cabin and set down her armload of shopping on the kitchen counter. "I'm back!" she called out. She pulled off her sunglasses and leaned over the counter to scan the living room. "Nai? Are you here?" No reply. “Naomi?”

She put away the refrigerated shopping, grabbed two bottles of her beloved Lilt and carried them with her onto the decking area. She smiled when she saw Naomi, stretched out on a sun lounger wearing denim shorts and a bikini top. Her blue eyes were hidden by the peak of the NYFD baseball cap perched on top of her head, but Emily knew she was fast asleep.

Taking a moment to admire her lover, she focused on the small black knee brace wrapped around her leg. The cast had been removed months ago, but the brace would be a constant companion due to the damage Sophia's bullets had done. Well, at least for the foreseeable future until she could walk without a limp again.

The large bulky knee brace had gradually been replaced by smaller lighter braces until the current version. Knowing the blonde as well as she did by now, Emily had no doubts over her making a full recovery, or at least managing to pass her medical to return to active service.

Emily put the bottles down on the table, straddled Naomi's lap and carefully lifted the other woman's hat. Sure enough, the blonde was completely unconscious and probably had been since the red head had left early in the morning. Emily smiled and kissed her lips until Naomi began to respond.

"Morning, sleepy-head."

"Hi," Naomi said drowsily, pushing herself up in her seat and settling her hat more firmly on her head before resting her hands on the smaller woman's hips.

“How long have I been sleeping?"

"I don't know," Emily said as she moved to share the seat, lying on her side and wrapping her arms around the sleepy blonde. "I just got back from the shops. Good sleep?"

"Mmmm," Naomi replied and rubbed her eyes. She blinked and looked out at the valley backing up against Tomone's cabin in the Snowdonia region. "It's just so beautiful out here." Small figures could just be made out making the climb up the large Welsh mountain, the air clear and crisp. It really was a beautiful place. The blonde was thankful to her boss for letting her and Emily use the place whenever they wanted during both their recovery periods.

"I love it here," Emily said.

Naomi glanced over, hearing the wistful tone in her lover’s voice as they ignored the other sun loungers and just shared Naomi's. After the fire, Emily had taken up residence in Naomi's small flat, her own destroyed by fire and the memories of the area far too painful for the little red head to even contemplate staying there again. She'd spent the days after her discharge pottering around in Naomi's clothes that were far too big for her, visiting Naomi or Freddie or being amused by Cook's antics whenever he turned up to check on her and take her out for lunch.

Naomi had tried being gallant once she had been discharged from hospital, offering to sleep on the sofa so that Emily could have a good nights sleep, until Emily had shown her feisty side, informing the still badly hobbling blonde that she'd stay on the sofa.

Naomi had finally discovered the nightmares the red head had been suffering every night, hobbling in the first time she'd heard the screams and finding an upset Emily sitting up, crying and shivering. Eventually coaxing the redhead into her bed and, cast or no cast, simply spent each night afterwards holding her precious cargo until she settled down again or woke; either nodding off to sleep if Emily slept or being there to talk if she woke crying or simply stroking her hair and telling her she understood if she was silent.

Perversely, despite the reasons that caused her to wake, Emily had enjoyed the moments when she'd wake up wrapped up in Naomi's arms and a cocoon of her scent; hearing her calming voice and feeling like she was in the safest place in the world. They'd eventually progressed from Emily waking up screaming and crying, through waking up and refusing to talk, to finally talking about what she was dreaming about.

Her worst nightmare.

Being stuck in a fire and being helpless.

The blonde had surprised Emily one evening as they snuggled in bed after another nightmare, suggesting the red head talk to the fire service counsellor about her experiences, as she explained “we all do after a bad shout. The coffee and bourbon touchy-feely lot do have their uses”; before dropping a gentle kiss on the end of her nose, “not that I'll admit that to them.”

She then surprised the petite doctor even further when she came with her so they could work through it together; and work through it they did. The nightmares eventually faded and the horror of facing up to killing someone discussed and rationalised until she could deal with it.

If it was at all possible, she fell even more in love with Naomi. She'd known she was strong, as she'd explained to her she wanted to feel her strong arms around her, but this calm, stoic, understanding constant presence was simply her utter hero.

Even when, despite the polices disgust, the Crown Prosecution Service discussed taking her to court for manslaughter, there was Naomi, always there; and with Naomi came the rest of Emily's new crazy family. Freddie, Cook, who had promptly said he'd whisk Emily abroad if they tried to prosecute her, Thomas and Panda, and even Effy when the aloof woman had finally, grudgingly admitted that Emily knew and understood fire fighters and that she had been wrong.

Katie would have utterly loved them she thought. She smiled up at the sky for a moment, sending some thanks to her sister.

Thankfully the prosecutors had finally seen sense especially when the press had become involved and the heroic fire fighter and doctor were interviewed about their ordeal. A little push in the right direction from the local reporters had done the trick in giving them a nudge.

With the threat of prosecution over, that was that; just months of time together, healing, exactly what they needed. Long peaceful weekends at the cabin, even when Cook did decide to invade and destroy their peace or 'sexy time' as he liked to call it. Both women had simply hit him or thrown something at him when he did and demanded he cook for them as payment.

“Want to move up here?” Naomi's quiet voice broke the silence.

Emily looked up into the bright blue eyes she loved, “you'd do that for me?”

One shoulder shrugged in response as the blonde smiled. “Sure if you can't face going back to Liverpool. I'll just follow you like a puppy dog all the way here. You're stuck with me Ems”. A warm kiss was pressed to very willing lips. “Sorry, bout that, but you know....”

Emily laughed running her hands through the thick blonde hair before capturing soft lips for a few more seconds, “Nahhhh I saw a 'For Sale' sign on one of the cabins down the way when I was coming back from the shops. Thought it'd be nice for us to have our own place here Nai.” 

Both women blinked for a minute at the seriousness and permanent thoughts behind buying a holiday home together. Then another shrug from the blonde. “Cool, we'll go look down there later then after you make me lunch.”

“What’s the physio said about your leg babe? Any new time scale?”

Naomi glared at the small knee brace as if her glower could magically make her knee better. “She says about another three months, maybe, and I'll be fit to try the medical.”

Emily rubbed her hand across Naomi's exposed abs, “you'll ace it Nai, don't worry.”

Naomi grinned and pulled Emily to her. They slid together, side-to-side, kissing softly. "I love you," Naomi said, fingertips lightly touching the feathered hair off Emily's temple.

"I love you, too," Emily replied, closing her eyes and resting her head on Naomi's chest. Naomi stroked her hand up and down Emily's back, feeling the warmth of the other woman.

They'd literally walked through fire together. Braved a madwoman in a burning apartment and they had come out of it. Not unscathed, but not broken either.

When she exhaled, her breath ruffled Emily's hair. When Emily exhaled, Naomi could feel the warmth spread across her chest like a wave. She could still hear Effy saying that her fiancé hadn't understood, could never understand, what she went through, but she let it go. They knew each other better than Effy and her fiancé would ever understand each other.

Naomi lifted her left arm and turned it, eyeing the scars that were now barely visible below her wrist. The result of Sophia's first fire, the small embers that had seared her skin and brought Dr. Emily Fitch into her life. She hated the woman, but owed her the greatest gift she'd ever been given. She kissed the top of Emily's head and again whispered, "I love you."

Emily had fallen asleep and didn't reply, but her fingertips tightened slightly against Naomi's stomach.

Later that day, Emily would wake up and slap Naomi's shoulder for letting her sleep for so long. They would go inside, Emily would cook something and they would retire to the sofa to watch some TV before going to see the cabin that was for sale. A while after that, they would go to bed and eventually sleep. But there was time for that later. For now, the sun was still high in the sky, the crazy people were still hiking up Snowdonia and there was a beautiful woman still tucked against her side, sleeping peacefully.

Later, they could deal with later.

For right now, Naomi had everything she wanted, or needed, within arm's length. She closed her eyes and put her head back, falling asleep with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

She was a very lucky woman.

_**~Fin~** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there you have it, the last we'll see of them for a while... hope you all enjoyed!!
> 
> Originally I had three endings, Naomi died, Emily died, Sophia died. Couldn't kill our heroes could I? lol


End file.
